Sugar

by Bernice McFadden

  “Look Lappy,” Sugar said between clenched teeth, “this ain’t the place or the time—”

  “Yeah, it is the place and the right goddamn time!” Lappy was yelling, spit flew from his mouth and his eyes rolled in his head. “You ain’t never home and when you here you with them.” He turned and glowered at Joe and Pearl. His words were slurring and he stumbled back a step. “Who they to you now, huh? They your pimps now? Ma and Pa pimp!” He let out a reel of crazed laughter.

  “You have had too much to drink, Lappy,” Sugar said in a low voice. People were starting to look at them. “You need to go on home and sleep it off.” She stepped around him and he turned and grabbed her again. This time Pearl could not keep Joe in his seat. He was up and on Lappy before Pearl could say a word.

  “Problem?” Joe asked. He stood a full foot taller than Lappy and outweighed him by at least one hundred pounds. Lappy stepped backward and looked up into Joe’s angry face. “I said, is there a problem?” Joe repeated himself and took a step toward Lappy. Lappy’s hand fell from Sugar’s arm.

  “Naw, man. Ain’t no problem here,” Lappy responded in a small voice that made Sugar turn her eyes away. Even though he didn’t deserve her pity, Sugar still felt ashamed for him.

  “You gonna pay,” Lappy hissed at Sugar. Sugar rolled her eyes and dismissed his threat as drunken rhetoric.

  Joe stood his ground until Sugar moved past him to the table and Lappy sulked his way out the front door, swearing vengeance.

  Sugar sat beside them every Sunday in church. She understood the words Reverend Foster read from the large worn Bible that sat on his podium and little by little she began to apply them to her life. But her greatest joy, the thing that made her sit straight up in the pew, was the sometimes gentle and more often turbulent voices of the choir. They left her shaken, wet-eyed and weak with happiness. “You should join the choir,” Pearl suggested this each and every Sunday. Sugar smiled and shook her head no, each and every time. Bigelow definitely was not ready to see her stand before them singing the Lord’s praises.

  Shirley, Minnie and Clair Bell offered Pearl short acknowledgments whenever they had the unfortunate pleasure to stumble across her path. Pearl told Sugar that they would eventually come around. Sugar knew they wouldn’t, but agreed when she saw the slight sadness that misted Pearl’s eyes as she stared at their swiftly retreating backs.

  “Something’s going to happen,” Pearl said, mostly to herself. Her hands moved quickly, snapping the long firm green beans in half. She was halfway through the bowl and her eyes moved from her work to the window and back. She shook her head and mumbled to herself.

  “What you say?” Sugar asked, lowering Sam Cook’s crooning voice on the transistor radio.

  “Nothing,” Pearl said, and looked nervously back at the window. The fog was becoming denser, the humidity increased and the temperature rose by at least ten degrees. “Lord, Lord,” Pearl uttered and quickly wiped her hands across her apron. She walked to the window and peered out into the solid gray. Unsatisfied, she moved to the front door and swung it open. Hesitatingly she stepped onto the porch and was swallowed by the smoky heather. She stepped back quickly and promptly shut the door.

  “What in the world is wrong with you, Miss Pearl?” Sugar was less than concerned. By now she was used to Pearl’s minor panic attacks, the way she got herself all worked up over the smallest things.

  “It just ain’t right,” Pearl whispered as she walked back into the kitchen, throwing a worried look over her shoulder as she did. “I ain’t never seen no fog like this in my whole life.”

  “It’s just fog, Miss Pearl.” Sugar’s hand moved to turn the volume on the radio back up, but Pearl shook her head. Disgruntled, Sugar returned to cleaning the bucketful of chitlins that rested in the sink.

  “Humph! Things just ain’t, you hear me? Everything got a meaning and purpose. Ain’t you learn that yet?” Pearl’s eyes shone. Her words were felt like daggers in Sugar’s heart. She rolled her eyes at the pig intestines, knowing full well that she could run from her past, but never hide.

  Joe Jr. had called early in the week to advise his parents that once again, he would not be joining them for Thanksgiving. Maybe Christmas, he said, before hanging up. Pearl swallowed hard after she replaced the receiver. Joe said nothing, just cleared his throat and left the room, leaving Sugar and Pearl alone.

  “Joe Jr. been gone near thirteen years now. Been home maybe three times. Jude’s death shook him up a whole lot. He said the South ain’t noplace for colored people. I told him colored people are the South. I know he’s just scared, thinking the same thing might happen to him that happened to Jude. Can’t blame him, really, but I sure do miss him.” Her voice dripped with grief. “It’s like I done lost two children instead of one.”

  “Well, why don’t you and Joe go on up North and visit him, then?” Sugar voiced, her tone light and carefree. She wanted to try to avoid the melancholy she saw quickly enclosing Pearl.

  “He ain’t never invited us,” Pearl said.

  “Well, what about Seth?” Sugar smiled brightly. She sang her words instead of speaking them.

  “Ain’t heard from Seth for about four months. Who knows where that boy might be now. He always chasing his dreams and they never lead him home.” She walked upstairs, her last word bouncing off the loneliness she felt, leaving Sugar alone.

  The kitchen oozed cinnamon and nutmeg aromas; with each whip of the large wooden spoon through the sweet potato mixture, the smell became stronger. In between football quarters, Joe visited the women, looking over their shoulders and examining their progress. Pearl shooed him away like a bothersome child, but not before allowing him a taste of dressing or a fresh baked biscuit drenched with sweet butter. For the moment Pearl’s attention was taken up by her work, the heavy fog outside her window forgotten.

  The knock came late in the evening, just as Sugar was grabbing her sweater to go home. The day was done and the fog remained stubbornly in place like a cell block wall. Joe offered to walk Sugar to her door, but Sugar declined. “It’s just across the way, Joe,” she said in a bashful voice. She had only recently started calling him Joe, at his and Pearl’s own urging.

  “I’ll get it,” Sugar yelled out as her hand reached for the doorknob.

  “No you won’t, either!” Pearl was beside her before Sugar finished her sentence. She looked cautiously out the slim windows that framed the doorway. “You don’t know who or what is out there in that fog,” Pearl whispered. The knock came again, urgent now. Both women jumped. “Miss Pearl, you got me all spooked now,” Sugar said in mild annoyance. She sucked her teeth and once again attempted to open the door. Pearl slapped her hand away. “Leave it alone. Joe.” Pearl turned and called to Joe who was dozing in the living room. “Yeah, baby,” he called back through a sleepy voice.

  All three now stood at the door, Sugar and Pearl behind Joe as he swung the door open. The fog moved in first, long tentacles of mist that wrapped around their ankles. Pearl looked down and kicked at it, then she grabbed Joe’s arm and began to shake. “Someone there?” Joe said and took a step forward. “No, Joe!” Pearl screamed and pulled him backward almost toppling him to the floor. “Pe—” Someone or something jumped out of the fog. Sugar, in the middle of trying to steady Joe, caught sight of the form and fled. She was up the stairs before she was sure she’d seen anything at all. It seemed her legs were reacting on their own, without the help of her mind. Pearl had not released Joe, but dug her fingers in, locking her hold on his arm and squeezing her eyes shut against the horror that was sure to be standing before her. Joe reacted by bringing his free arm up and out, his fist making quick impact with the face of whatever it was that then lay groaning at his feet.

  “Seth! Oh, my God, Seth!” Sugar heard Pearl’s squeals of surprise and concern. Her trembling legs brought her slowly back down the stairs. “Oh Joe, look what you done!” Pearl and Joe stood huddled over the heap on the porch. Sugar saw Joe shake his head and th
en reach out to help the man up and then she heard a deep laugh. Pearl turned and Sugar saw that there were tears rolling down her face, but she was smiling. Closer still, she saw Seth’s strong jawline, a nose that at the moment was bleeding, long thick eyelashes and wide-set eyes that were so dark and deep, she was sure that women had lost themselves in them forever.

  She was staring at him, his long fingers and the strong large hands that she wanted to lay on top of her own. She shook her head against her thoughts.

  “Sugar, this here is Seth.” Pearl plucked him on the back of the head and went to retrieve the ice trays from the freezer. “Seth is my son and a fool!” she said with a laugh. “Seth, this here is my friend, our friend, Sugar Lacey.”

  His head was tilted back in order to thwart the flow of blood. He held a handkerchief to his nose that obstructed his view of her. “Hey,” he said and raised his hand in a hello gesture.

  “Hi,” Sugar said and dropped her eyes.

  “He is the biggest fool! Now what kinda person gonna jump outta nowhere like that? When you gonna grow up, Seth? I done told you over and over again that everything can’t be a game. Now suppose your daddy would have had the shotgun? You woulda been dead already!” She plucked him again on his head.

  “Ow, Mamma! Daddy, tell her to quit!” Seth yelled in mock pain. Joe just chuckled and stood with his arms folded across his chest in fatherly admiration.

  “Why didn’t you call and tell us you were coming, Seth? We could’ve met you at the station.” Pearl wrapped four blocks of ice in a new dishtowel with a red and yellow turkey on it and placed it on Seth’s nose.

  “I wanted to surprise ya’ll and—”

  “But how did you get here from the station? You get a lift? Oh, Seth, don’t tell me you walked here, in this fog?”

  “Mamma, no, I—”

  “Well how did you get here then—”

  “Pearl, would you let the boy talk,” Joe firmly intervened. Pearl threw an exasperated look at him, but said nothing else.

  “Thank you, Daddy. I drove here, Mamma.”

  Pearl did not seem to understand what Seth was saying.

  “In a car,” he added and shot Sugar a look of mild interest.

  “A car? Whose car?” Pearl asked.

  “My own. I done bought me a car, Mamma!” Seth was excited and looked at his beaming father for approval. Joe patted him firmly on the back.

  “You did what!” Pearl screamed with glee, finally understanding what Seth was saying. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said and kissed him on the cheek.

  “It’s right outside. I cut the engine when I was halfway up the street and coasted it the rest of the way, that’s why you ain’t hear me pull up.”

  “Sure ’nuff. My baby done bought himself a car. You doing okay then, huh? What else been going on with you, baby?” Pearl asked excitedly and pulled up a chair to sit next to her son.

  Sugar listened for a while as Seth talked about New York and Harlem. He told them about the trains that moved hundreds of people all over the city and into Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx. “Underneath the water?” Pearl said, her eyes wide with amazement.

  Sugar was uncomfortable. She felt forgotten by the people who had, over the past few months, become more than friends, but family. “I gotta be going now,” she whispered beneath the laughing and talking sounds that emanated from Seth and his parents, and moved quickly on tiptoe to the door. Once again, just as her hand was about to grasp the doorknob, Pearl’s voice blocked her escape. “Sugar!”

  She stopped cold. “Yes,” she said, but did not make any attempt to turn around.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Sugar knew the tone. She knew that Pearl was standing behind her, her hands placed firmly on her hips, her lips a straight line.

  Sugar spoke to the door. “I got to go, Miss Pearl. Uhm. Things to do, you know?” Sugar felt the air move and then Pearl was beside her, speaking into her neck. “You said you wasn’t gonna be doing that for a couple of days.”

  Sugar had agreed that she would not take in any work for the next week. She had enough money to live on, and anything she needed but couldn’t afford, Pearl would supply. “I want you to stop this foolishness. You got other talents that don’t require you to lay down and spread your legs.” Sugar listened to Pearl and half heard her. She’d been told this before but all it got her was a small, big-teethed Jewish man chasing her around his desk, trying to take advantage of her.

  Sugar knew it was useless to argue with Pearl. The energy involved was more than enough motivation for Sugar to just nod her head in agreement.

  Pearl had asked Joe to ask around about other places in the county that offered what the Memphis Roll offered. To Pearl’s surprise there were quite a few. But the places there were, were only willing to let Sugar sing for tips or were too high up on the chitlin circuit to consider an unknown.

  “Don’t worry, baby, you keep doing what you do at the Memphis Roll. Word gets around and those people who said no will be banging on your door begging you to come sing at their place.” Sugar had wondered when Pearl moved from Bible-carrying Baptist to music industry mogul.

  “I ain’t doing that,” Sugar hissed back now. “Ya’ll don’t need me around. I know you all want to catch up with one another.”

  “You stay right here. You are family now so you and Seth need to get acquainted.” She grabbed Sugar firmly by the elbow, ignoring her rejections, and led her back to the kitchen where Seth and Joe were in deep conversation.

  “Oh,” Seth uttered. The smile that held his lips wavered, faded and then reluctantly reappeared. Sugar knew that look. It was the same look the good Bigelow women threw at her. A look that made it quite clear that she was not wanted or needed. A look that said: Clutch your children, watch your men and don’t let your pocketbook hang too loose from your shoulder when she’s around.

  Those looks, the ones from the women, did not bother Sugar. She’d worn blinders against that sort of intimidation for far too long.

  But from a man, from Seth Taylor, the look was wounding. Sugar staggered and almost doubled under the intensity of it. “Just wanted to say good-night,” she said quickly and turned to rush out of the house.

  “So mamma, what you got to eat?” Seth said, rubbing his palms together.

  The gray wall began to recede against the stubborn rays of the high morning sun. Slowly, slowly the thick rays of light sliced through it until it was nothing more than fine, thin strips of mist and then nothing at all.

  Thanksgiving morning had ushered in a winter chill that took all by surprise and sent people scurrying to chop firewood for heat, squirrels scampering to gather food for the winter and Sugar wondering about her life in Bigelow.

  Seth’s reaction to her had haunted her for most of the night, causing her to twist and turn through small intervals of sleep, until finally her unrest sent her from the bed to the top drawer of her dresser and the joint that awaited her there. The marijuana muffled the noise in her head, fragmented the looming face of Seth Taylor and allowed her to sleep. But her sleep was filled with Jude. The haunting pictures of a child that looked so much like her. And Jude, as always, spoke to her from those black and white still lifes, pleaded with her to go away from Bigelow before a tear would fall from one almond-shaped eye and roll down the glossy photo finish, leaving blue and pink scars in its wake, finally falling off the rippled white border and into the vast darkness of Sugar’s dream.

  She woke with that very same tear in her own eye and wiped it quickly away. Why was Jude coming to her, asking her to leave? Was it jealousy? Sugar balled her hands into fists and beat at her head and yelled at the walls of her room, “What! What! What!”

  It could be jealousy. A jealous spirit looking in from the great beyond. Pulling back the layers of time and space and seeing that her mother’s pain had finally lifted. Sugar supposed that Jude’s spirit felt threatened. If the pain had lessened and become a distant memory that brushed against your thoughts eve
ry blue moon, then a memory of a child taken could walk in pain’s retreating footsteps.

  Sugar was a fighter, had been all of her life, but how do you fight the soul of a dead child and her brother?

  If eating was a sin, then all that sat around the Taylor table would surely have been sentenced to hell. The table creaked beneath the weight of heavy ceramic bowls filled with sweet sausage dressing, collard greens, potato salad, macaroni salad, chitlins, candied yams and roasted potatoes. A turkey, baked to golden perfection, sat beside a glazed ham adorned with bright red cherries. Biscuits, so light and flaky they threatened to rise to the ceiling if not for the melting sweet butter that dripped and ran across their swollen bellies, restraining their flight. Music filled the background and the temporary voids that opened up when talk and laughter were put aside for a forkful of macaroni and cheese or a sip of plum wine.

  Sugar smiled on top of the festivities, never quite feeling a part of them. No matter if she was quite often the subject of conversation. Seth and Joe retired full-bellied to the living room to watch the football game. Sugar and Pearl sat quietly at the table, picking at bits of sweet potato pie, their ears tuned in to the heavy male laughter a room away.

  “Mamma, seeing that you cooked all this here food, I figure the least I can do is wash the dishes.” Seth stood at the doorway, his arms expanded as wide as an eagle’s wings. He yawned loudly. “If I don’t do something, I’m gonna fall asleep.” He smiled and walked toward the sink piled high with dishes. His eyes never touched Sugar.

  “Joe asleep?” Pearl asked as she removed her apron. She didn’t seem to notice Seth’s apparent aversion to Sugar.

  “You know he is.” Seth laughed and twisted his hand up to his mouth in a drinking motion. “I think he had too much plum wine.”

  Pearl tied the apron around Seth’s waist and kissed him lovingly on the cheek. “Well, then I will certainly take you up on the offer.” She swatted him smartly on the behind and went to clear the remaining dishes and casseroles from the table.