The Secrets of Silk (20 page)

Myron raced out of the back door, leaving Bruce alone with Silk.

“So, you done turned into a little pee-pot just to spite me, haven't you?”

“No, M'dear. I don't know why I keep having accidents.”

“That's bullshit, you lying little bastard.” Silk moved closer to the boy, and bent low, putting her face only an inch or so away from his. “You don't like me, and you never did. You and your brother had it in for me from the first day I set foot inside this house. Well, you don't have to like me, but you're damn sure gonna respect me. Do you hear me, you little bastard?”

As Bruce nodded briskly, Silk raised the belt and brought it down on his wet back. An angry welt appeared immediately. Bruce screamed and jumped around, exaggerating his pain.

The way he was acting the fool made Silk want to beat the skin off his back, but she didn't think Buddy would approve of her leaving his son scarred and bloody. It took a great deal of willpower for Silk to put the belt down. But she wasn't finished with Bruce. He'd never learn a lesson if she let him off the hook with only one lashing.

“Nasty, evil alley cats go around pissing on things when they're mad about something. You wanna act like an alley cat, well, I'm gonna treat you like one. Do you want me to get a litter box for you to squat down and do your business in?”

“No, M'dear.” Tears rolled down Bruce's cheeks as he stood in a puddle of water that had dripped off his wet swimming trunks.

Silk looked down at the puddle of water, and then glared at Bruce.

“I didn't pee on the floor, M'dear. I swear to God.”

“Hmph. Tell that to a fool that don't know any better. You about as nasty as they come, and I'm gonna break you out of your disgusting habits. Go upstairs to your room, and strip out of them wet trunks. I'll be up there to finish your punishment in a few minutes.”

“What are you gonna do to me, M'dear?” Bruce asked through chattering teeth.

“That's for me to know and you to find out. Now, get up those stairs.”

Silk had a brilliant idea, and all she needed was a few items that Clara had accidentally left behind when she returned to Louisiana. Silk scratched her head, wondering where Buddy had stored Clara's junk. Then, she recalled that there was a box on the top shelf of the hall closet with Clara's name written on it.

Carrying the box, she raced up the stairs. When she burst into the boys' room, Bruce was dried off and sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a white undershirt and white briefs.

“Take them drawers off,” Silk said, motioning impatiently.

“Why?”

“Because you ain't nothing but an overgrown pee-pot, and I figured out a way to break you out of that bad habit. Now, get out them drawers like I said.”

Bruce removed his briefs and self-consciously covered his private parts with both his hands.

Silk shot Bruce a cold stare. “Your little ding-a-ling don't faze me none. I ought to cut that lil' weenie off and throw it in the frying pan. I bet that would put an end to all that bed wetting.”

“Please, M'dear. Don't cut my wee-wee off.” More tears spilled from Bruce's eyes and rolled down his cheeks. With his knees locked together, he protectively shielded his private parts.

“Move your hands!” Silk shouted.

“What's in the box? What are you gonna do to me, M'dear?”

“Stop asking so many questions.” She opened the box and retrieved a cloth diaper, a pair of jumbo-sized safety pins, and a pair of yellow rubber pants. “Since you wanna pee all over the place like a big ol' baby, you better start getting used to wearing your little cousin's diapers. No more drawers for you until you start pissing in the toilet like a normal seven-year-old boy.”

“I don't wanna wear Vernon, Jr.'s diapers. Please don't make me. I won't pee the bed anymore. I swear to God.”

“Hush up. You should be ashamed using the Lord's name in vain. Now, lift up your behind, so I can get this diaper on you.” Silk had watched Clara change Vernon, Jr. more times than she'd cared to, but now the unwelcome tutorials had come in handy. She shook baby powder on Bruce's genitals before pinning up each side of the diaper. “Here, put these rubber pants on yourself.”

“They're too little,” Bruce protested.

“Squeeze into them. If you're uncomfortable enough, maybe you'll stop being such a nasty pee-pot.”

Crying his heart out, Bruce did as he was told.

“Now, put some clothes on before your brother and sister discover you have to wear baby diapers.”

Bruce quickly put on a pair of pants and a shirt.

“When you have to go to the bathroom, open up one side of the diaper, and then pin it back up after you finish. There'll be hell to pay if I find out you took that diaper off and put your drawers back on.”

Sniffling and wiping tears, Bruce nodded. “How long do I have to wear this thing?”

“Until you stop pissing the bed.”

W
henever there was a household dilemma that she couldn't handle, Silk always called on Mrs. Sudler. This time, Dallas was the source of her grief. The child was crying and shrieking in pain, and Silk didn't know what to do.

“How are you, Mrs. Sudler? I hate to bother you, again, but I need some help with Dallas' hair.”

“What's the problem?” Mrs. Sudler asked.

“Well, her hair was smelly from being under that bathing cap in the pool every day. So, I shampooed her hair twice. I dried it with a towel, and then I let her play in the backyard, to let it air-dry the rest of the way. Now, her hair is standing all over her head, and it looks and feels like steel wool. It's so tangled up and knotty, I can't even get a comb through it. She's bawling her eyes out while I'm trying my best to tackle her wild head of hair.”

Mrs. Sudler chuckled over the phone. “Dallas' hair doesn't take water. Ernestine always gave her a hard press, and while Buddy's sister was visiting, she ran the hot comb through the child's hair several times. You should have combed through it and braided it up while it was still damp…then it would have been easier to handle when you pressed it out.”

“Should I wash it again?”

“Do you know how to use a hot comb, Silk?”

“No,” Silk admitted.

Mrs. Sudler chuckled again. “You don't know the first thing about taking care of kinky hair, so it would be best if you take Dallas to see Carmalee.”

“Who's that?”

“She's a beautician. She lives over in the projects on Ruby Street. Her salon is set up in her kitchen. Carmalee charges three dollars for a press and curl, and two-fifty to only press hair.”

“I'm taking Dallas to her right away. Where's Ruby Street?”

“You can't drop in on Carmalee. She's always booked up, so you're gonna have to make an appointment.”

“Do you have her phone number?” Silk asked desperately.

“No, I don't, but why don't you walk on over there and introduce yourself. Maybe she'll squeeze Dallas in tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! I need Dallas' hair straightened out today. Buddy will think I'm a bad mother if he comes home and sees his daughter looking like Buckwheat.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. One thing about Ernestine, she kept herself and those children well-groomed at all times. I never saw Dallas with a hair out of place.”

Silk was ready to fly off the handle and curse Mrs. Sudler out for bringing up Ernestine's name, and for singing her praises, but she held her temper. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “Can you give me directions to Ruby Street?”

“Sure, honey. Walk down Twelfth Street, and on the other side of Max's store is Nooker Street. Next to Nooker is Morris Street. Keep walking, and you'll bump smack into Ruby Street. If you pass by a kiddy playground, you'll know you walked too far. Turn onto Ruby and walk almost to the end of the block. Carmalee lives on the left-hand side. Folks will be sitting out on their stoops and
kids will be outside playing. Ask anybody to point out Carmalee's house for you.”

“Okie-dokie.” Silk had heard there was never a dull moment in the projects, and she'd been itching to be right in the midst of all the excitement, and it looked like her wish was about to come true.

Avoiding Sonny Boy, who always got overly excited and stopped whatever he was doing and tried to follow her around if she came into Max's store or even if she merely walked past, Silk traveled on the opposite side of Twelfth Street. Following Mrs. Sudler's directions, she reached Ruby Street in a matter of minutes. As predicted, people were out in droves. Little girls jumped rope in the middle of the narrow street while adults sat on stoops and lawn chairs, smoking cigarettes and chatting.

All conversations ceased when Silk made her way down the street.

“Hellooo! Are you lost, miss? Are you looking for somebody?” asked a plump woman with bulging eyes, and whose hair was styled in finger-waves. Shiny metal clamps decorated her head, holding the waves in place. Grinning broadly, she fluttered her fingers, greeting Silk.

Right off the bat, Silk disliked her. She could tell the woman was pretending to be friendly when she really wanted to get in her business and find out all she could about Silk.

Silk bypassed the nosey woman with the finger-waves and approached two women who were thumbing through magazines, while stealing glances at Silk. Both of the women had on duster dresses with snaps down the front and wore bedroom slippers on their feet. The one wearing the blue duster was looking through a copy of
True Confessions
and the one wearing an orange duster with flowers and birds embroidered around the neckline, was glancing at a copy of
True Romance
.

As Silk grew closer to the two women, she heard one of them
say, “That must be that high-yella gal from New Orleans that everybody's talking about.”

“She don't look like a voodoo lady to me,” the other woman said.

“No, she don't. But you can tell by the way she walks that she thinks she's high and mighty.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Carmalee?” Silk asked in a kindly tone that she hoped would distract them from envying her looks.

The two greeted her with hard expressions while their gazes traveled from Silk's recently purchased, two-tone, stack-heeled pumps and all the way up to the stylish chignon bun on the top of her head.

While the women checked Silk out with their faces twisted in scowls, the nosey neighbor got up from her stoop and ambled over. “You looking for Carmalee? I'll show you where she lives. Come on with me, I'll walk you over there.” Guiding Silk by the arm, she steered her away from the unfriendly duo.

“My name is Franny. You must be the New Orleans gal who married Buddy Dixon,” the plump woman said.

“I'm not from New Orleans. I'm from another part of Louisiana.”

“Oh, yeah? Whereabouts?”

“I lived near the swamps in a part of Louisiana you ain't never heard of.” Silk didn't mind giving out vague information about herself. She was no longer concerned about Sherriff Thompson. He would search high and low in all the surrounding towns and boroughs near Devil's Swamp, but it would never enter his mind to look for her up North in Chester, Pennsylvania.

“You're the talk of the town. Folks say you put some roots on Buddy, and that's how you got him to marry you before Ernestine was even in the ground.”

“That's a lie. We didn't get married until after the funeral. And for your information, I don't know the first thing about working roots, so tell all the gossipers that they can kiss my high-yella ass,” Silk said in a tone loud enough for the two women on the stoop to hear.

Taken aback by Silk's spunk, Franny said, “I didn't expect you to be such a firecracker.”

“I speak my mind, and I don't take shit off anybody.” Under normal circumstances, Silk would have at least made an attempt to present herself as innocent and harmless, but she was ticked off by the way those two biddies wearing house dresses and slippers had called her names under their breath and then snubbed her.

“That's just how I am, honey chile. I don't talk behind nobody's back, either. Anything I have to say, I'll say it to your face.”

“Yeah, well, you better watch what you say to me because I'll cut your ass if I don't like the shit you're talking.”

Franny laughed nervously. “I was speaking in general. I don't know you well enough to talk trash about you.”

“Mm-hmm,” Silk murmured doubtfully.

“Here we are. This is Carmalee's house.” She pointed to a house with pretty flowers in the yard. “What do you want to see Carmalee about? I know you're not thinking about letting her put a straightening comb in all that bone-straight, pretty hair of yours.”

“No, I need to make an appointment for my daughter.”

“You got kids?”