Hot Fudge Sundae Blues

by Bev Marshall

  “I just know,” I said. “Besides, nobody is going to come.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Of course they’ll come. It’s not just a birthday party; we’re having a dance right here in the den. I’ve already put Wallace in charge of changing the records.”

  My heart sank from my stomach on down into my ovaries. “Is he going to be here?” I had assumed Wallace would want nothing to do with a bunch of teenagers crowding into his house, encroaching on his drinking time.

  Mama smiled. “Of course he will. He loves you, Layla Jay. Wouldn’t miss his stepdaughter’s first party for the world.”

  I gave up and helped her write out the invitations. We invited my entire class and a couple of kids from Pisgah, whom I didn’t like all that much, but I added their names to the list because I figured they might show up.Three days after we mailed the invitations with an R.S.V.P. on the bottom, only June had promised to come; after four days passed the two Pisgah kids accepted.Then the no’s started popping up like freckles on a redhead.

  On the night before the party I skulked into my room and sat on my bed, trying hard not to cry. The math was easy; besides Mama, Wallace, and me there would be three party guests, and one of them was a cousin. It would be too awful; I couldn’t go through with it. I would tell Mama that I had come down with a stomachache, a migraine, signs of a deadly cancer. I headed down the hall toward the den to find Mama, but stopped short of the door when I heard her talking on the phone.“Well, I was worried something was amiss with Gloria when Layla Jay said she couldn’t come to her party.” I sank down onto the hardwood floor. She was talking to Gloria Reddick’s mother! Gloria had said she was going out of town and couldn’t come, which I had told Mama was a big lie. And now she was tattling. I placed my hand over my breast; my heart was on fire, melting down into my stomach. Then I heard Mama dialing again. “Judith, it’s Frieda. I’m calling to tell you how sorry I am that Thad is ill and will have to miss Layla Jay’s party.” After a few seconds, she said, “He isn’t?”

  I sat with my back against the wall, feet spread out in front of me, listening as Mama called every one of the guests who had R.S.V.P.’d “no”! I stood up and crept over to the door to peep into the den where Mama sat hunched over the phone, a burning cigarette in one hand and the party list on her lap. I tiptoed back to my room and slid between the cool sheets where I lay in the dark trying to untangle the knot of confusion in my brain. I had never questioned Mama’s love for me, assuming that all mothers love their children no matter what, but now I wondered whether she had to love me if I turned out to be a total flop in the world. She might resent having to beg other women to make their kids be nice to me. I worried that I was a terrible embarrassment to her.

  When I heard Mama’s footsteps coming down the hall, I turned onto my side and feigned sleep. I couldn’t let her know I had overheard her telephone calls. But she didn’t come into my room. She stood silently in the doorway, then switched off the hall light and walked away.

  Mama’s furtive telephone calling resulted in nineteen guests showing up for the party the next afternoon. I pasted on a big smile and tried to look surprised that so many sick people had received a miracle healing. Mama was the Academy Award–winning actress though. She greeted everyone at the door, smiling and waving to the mothers who dropped off their teens. No one would believe this sweet woman had sat at the telephone like a soldier in an army tank rolling over my enemies one by one. After everyone was crowded into our den, Mama and I met in the kitchen. She hugged me and said, “See, Layla Jay, you thought no one would come, and nearly everyone is here.”

  Even Wallace was nice, acting almost like I remembered him on that first afternoon when we sat listening to him in Grandma’s living room. “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he told me with a wink.

  I didn’t want to ruin the party by telling him that I knew the Lord didn’t give a shit about how many people would dance in my house that day. Mama might have suspected that I had eavesdropped on her calls though, because when I looked over at her, she bit her lip and turned her head away.

  An hour after the party began, Jehu Albright knocked on the front door. When I opened it and saw him standing on our porch in pressed pants and a yellow shirt, holding a wrapped gift for me, my heart literally banged so hard I was afraid he could see it beating against the bodice of my dress. As I steered him toward the punch bowl, we passed by Lyn sitting on Mama’s new couch, and I looked over and shot her a triumphant smile. Jehu might be her boyfriend, but he had come to my party, brought me a present, and was grinning at my mother instead of her.

  I hadn’t expected to enjoy the party. I had been prepared to deal with surly guests whose mothers had forced them to come against their will, and figured they would all pay me back someday. But if any of them resented coming, they changed their minds when Wallace put on the first forty-five and Cliff Richard and The Shadows started wailing “Do You Want to Dance?” Nearly everyone did. Including Jehu, who asked Mama if she’d care to try the watusi with him. I stood beside her, gripping the tiny handle of my punch cup, dreading the moment when Mama’s hips would start swiveling into a spectacle that would be gossiped about for months to come. Mama flashed her brightest crimson smile. “Honey, Layla Jay is a much much better dancer than I am.” She pushed me forward, and as I took Jehu’s outstretched hand, Mama winked at me.

  Watching Mama all those nights was paying off. I pretended I was her and all of my inhibitions fell away as I danced with uncharacteristic abandonment. On our tiled dance floor, rhythmically shaking my butt, I caught a glimpse of Lyn’s fiery eyes and finally understood what winning feels like. It’s like someone pulls a lever, switching on the thousand-watt bulbs inside you, and every organ, vessel, and strand of hair swells and pulses so that you can hardly keep from screaming your joy.Wallace was a good DJ, expertly switching the records before we had time to walk away, and I came into Jehu’s arms with Elvis expressing my feelings exactly. “I can’t help falling in love.”

  Jehu’s breath filled my ear. His fingers were warm and fit mine perfectly. “Great party, Layla Jay,” he whispered. “I’m glad you moved into town.”

  I looked up into his face with my best Sandra Dee smile. My eyes were probably sparkling just like hers. “Me too,” I said. “I like living in town a whole lot better than the country.”

  June danced by, holding on to Matt Bradley, her latest conquest, and winked at me. Sharing my joy with June doubled my happiness, and I whispered a silent thank-you to God, who had more than answered my prayers ... with a little help from Mama, of course.

  Despite my euphoria, I couldn’t entirely blot out Wallace’s dark eyes, straying to the breasts of the most blessed girls. Some of them, Sarah Jane Patterson for one, didn’t seem to mind his interest. I had forgotten that Wallace’s good looks magnetized women, and now I remembered those first days we spent together during revival. Hadn’t I played every song I knew on my flute, recited paragraphs of Spanish phrases, basked in the attention he had showered on me before Mama came home? And now the last thing on the earth I wanted was Wallace’s eyes on me.Those eyes took on an unnatural glitter, and each time I passed by him sitting beside the record player, I looked away. I was relieved when Mama called us all into the kitchen for cake and ice cream, which meant Wallace’s services were no longer needed, and he would be leaving the party to go to work at Vest’s.They were having a sale and Mama told him to put back a few pairs of shoes in her size.

  Just before he left, he asked me what size I wore. “I don’t want anything from Vest’s,” I said. “Or you,” I whispered.

  When Jehu asked for my telephone number, the party was over right then as far as I was concerned. I obligingly cut the cake, blew out all the candles at once, but it didn’t really matter since my wish had already come true. I opened the gifts of nail polish, cologne, stationery, and a few new 45’s and thanked everyone. After the party I helped Mama clean up t
he wrapping paper and wash the dishes before going to my room to relive every moment I had spent with Jehu. I closed my eyes and saw his neat blond crew cut; his teeth, white as Gold Medal flour; the curling hairs on his forearm. “Can I call you sometime?” he had said. Call me, call me, call me. Jehu Albright had said that he would call me and now I hugged myself and rocked with excitement. I had a boyfriend at last!

  I stayed in my room after I heard Wallace come home from work. When Mama called to me that The Dick Van Dyke Show was on TV, I said I had homework to do. And I did have some algebra equations to figure out, but I spent the rest of the night drawing hearts and smiley faces around my and Jehu’s names.

  Before she went to her own bed, Mama came to my room and sat beside me on mine.“Did you enjoy your party?” she asked, smiling with anticipation of my response.

  “It was perfect.Thanks for all you did,” I said.

  Mama leaned over and brushed her lips across my forehead.“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl.”

  Reaching up, I hugged her tightly. I believed her.

  After Mama said good night, I switched off the lamp beside my bed, and in the darkness, I made a vow to myself. From now on, I would share only my triumphs and good fortune with her. I would bear all of my failures alone. It was better this way, because if Mama shared my pain, the hurting would be doubled. I loved her that much.

  Chapter 6

  THREE DAYS AFTER MY BIRTHDAY, PRESIDENT KENNEDY WAS shot dead in Dallas, and the world turned upside down. Through her tears, Mama vowed she would never wear a pink suit again out of respect for Jackie.Wallace fell onto his knees in front of the TV set and prayed for our nation, and Grandma called up and said maybe Lyndon Johnson would be a better president. Mama slammed down the receiver, lit a cigarette, and swore she would never enter her mother’s house ever again. Mama loved Jackie because of her stylish outfits and her connection to France, and she hated Lyndon Johnson, Lady Bird, and both of the Johnson daughters. Not that she knew anything about any of them, but they could never climb to the heights the Kennedys had risen to in Mama’s esteem. Miss Schultz told our class that assassinations were common in her native land, but that she had never expected such a tragedy to occur again in America.

  After the funeral, which everyone I knew except for Grandma watched on TV, school resumed, but a pall hung over us all. I guess I looked as sad as anyone because Jehu came up behind me as I was putting my science book in my locker and asked me if I was okay. I wanted to dance, shout, sing the school victory song, but somehow I managed to keep my eyes downcast, my shoulders hunched forward, washing myself in sorrow as best I knew how. “I guess,” I said. “I just keep remembering that sad funeral parade. Even the horses looked like they were mourning the president. I can’t imagine what Jackie feels. To lose the love of your life!”

  The love of mine reached out and tilted my chin up to rest in his palm. “I know. Everybody feels pretty awful.” He dropped his hand. “It’s probably a bad time to ask, but I was wondering if you’d like to go to the school dance after the game next Friday.”

  Too quickly, I answered. “No, no, it’s not. I’d love to go.” Then remembering my grief-stricken role, I said, “What I mean is, I know we have to try to go on with our normal lives. President Kennedy would want us to.”

  Guilt weighs heavier than ever when joy spills into sorrow, and I was plagued with visions of burning in hell for my happiness. While poor Jackie was moving out of the White House enveloped in heartache, I was in tears because I didn’t own a party dress. Mama flipped through the dresses in my closet and said we’d go to The Ideal Shop to find something wonderful.We never shopped there.The Ideal Shop catered to the rich teenagers in Zebulon like Lyn, who had gotten a date with Shawn Willoughby. I had overheard her telling a group of girls that she was wearing a black chiffon with a plunging neckline.

  In the dressing room at The Ideal, Mama and I turned over the tag hanging from the armhole of the silver lamé sheath that fit me perfectly. “Fifty-four dollars,” I screamed. “We can’t afford it.”

  Mama slapped her hand over my mouth. She whispered,“Of course, we can’t.We’ll tuck the tag in and bring it back on Monday.We’ll say you found something better in Jackson.”

  “But that’s kind of like cheating, Mama.” I hoped she wasn’t listening to me. I looked nearly beautiful in the dress.

  Mama giggled. “I know. It is a little naughty, but Layla Jay, it’s fun, isn’t it?”

  Mama was right. Despite the tag scratching my underarm, I had a wonderful time dancing in the dress in Jehu’s arms.The school gym was transformed into a fairyland with silver tinsel and blue-and-white crepe-paper streamers, and balloons that popped like firecrackers on the Fourth of July as we glided across the varnished floor. My dress was the envy of every girl at the dance.

  In the girls’ bathroom June made me slowly turn around twice. “Where’d you get it?” June wanted to know. “It looks like something Ava Gardner would wear.”

  “Ideal Shop.”

  “Must have cost a fortune,” Sally McGruder said from two sinks over.

  I knew she thought we were too poor to shop at The Ideal, and of course, she was right. Quickly I lifted my arm and checked that the tag was still in place.“My mother got a raise,” I said.“And we’re expecting a big inheritance any day now.”

  After she left June turned to me. “Really?”

  “No, you know we don’t have any rich relatives. That just popped out, and now she’s going to wonder how come I keep showing up at school in fake pearls.”

  June opened the door and music and laughter wafted into the room. “She’ll forget about it. She’s so narcissistic, she can’t think of anything but herself.”

  Ever since we’d begun studying mythology in Mrs. Peachon’s English class, June had been using words like narcissistic and exchanging the deity Zeus for God as often as possible, like when she’d say “Only Zeus knows!”When I followed June out of the girls’ room, I found Jehu waiting for me just outside the door.

  The evening flew by, and it seemed like we’d just arrived when Jehu checked his watch and said we’d better go out to wait for his mother to pick us up. We were standing on the sidewalk beneath the overhanging branch of the one willow tree that had survived on school property when I saw Lyn and Shawn coming out of the gym. Jehu saw them, too, and as they walked toward us, he leaned over and kissed me so suddenly, I didn’t have time to pucker my lips. Over his shoulder I caught a glimpse of Lyn’s face illuminated beneath the streetlight, and it was a pitiful sight. It brought to mind the image I had seen on television of Jackie’s face as she walked across the White House lawn holding on to the hands of John John and Caroline. After the kiss, Jehu turned around, and his eyes followed Lyn’s black dress swirling around her calves as she disappeared into the darkness. Then looking down at me, he forced a phony grin. “You’re a good kisser,” he said. His left eye twitched, and I knew he was lying.

  I stepped away from Jehu and looked down at the cracks on the sidewalk. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready,” I whispered.

  When Jehu’s mother parked their car in front of our house after the dance at eleven o’clock,Wallace’s frowning face was visible through the living room picture window. He had been out at choir practice when I had come home to change out of my band uniform for the dance, and I didn’t know if Mama had told him about my date. As we got out of the car and Jehu led me up the front walk, I could feel Wallace’s eyes on us. Standing beside Jehu beneath the yellow porch light, I prayed. “Let me say the right thing, Lord. Don’t be an Indian giver and take him away.”

  Jehu’s lips brushed my cheek. “I had a good time, Layla Jay. I’ll see you at school Monday. Got a lot of homework to do over the weekend.” I was still waiting for help from God when Jehu wheeled around, flew down the walk, and hopped in beside his mother who had left the motor running.

  Af
ter I locked the front door,Wallace called to me from the den. He was sprawled on the couch wearing only his Sunday pants, holding a half-filled glass of amber liquid I knew must be whiskey. “Come here,” he yelled.

  When I walked in, his eyes ran up and down my body like I was a list of unpleasant chores. “You look like a whore,” he said in a menacingly quiet voice. “The whore of Babylon.”

  I looked around the dimly lit room. The lamp by the couch shed only a small circle of light across the coffee table. The television was silent, and I could hear Wallace breathing as he rose from the couch. “Where’s Mama?” I asked.

  “Gone to bed with a headache. Did she paint your face like that?”

  I licked my pink lips. She had helped me with the liner and eyebrow pencil, but I didn’t want Mama to fight my battle. “No, I did. I think I look pretty.” I lifted my eyes to his. “Jehu said I did.”

  Wallace slammed his glass down on the coffee table sloshing droplets across the southern counties of Mississippi. “Jehu. Jehu. That pimple-faced twerp. He get your cherry tonight? You go behind the gym and smooch in the dark, let him touch you?”

  I dropped my clutch bag and crossed my arms over my stomach. Bile rose in my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “ No. It was nothing like that.” My nails dug into the flesh of my arms as I struggled to block the tears I felt welling in my eyes. I felt dirty, guilty, and I didn’t know why. I’d barely felt that kiss.

  Then he was there. Wallace grabbed my arms and held them out from my sides. My wrists burned from his grip, and when I smelled the sour whiskey on his breath, fear replaced my guilt. “I can tell if you’re lying,” he said. “I can tell by your stomach. Let me see.”

  I stared at the dark screen of the TV set and willed Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore to appear there. Rose Marie was going to tell them some funny joke in just a minute. I would laugh along with them, and then Wallace would go away and Mama would come in and say “Did you have a good time, honey?”And I would go to my room and none of this would have happened.