Aunt Sookie & Me

by Michael Scott Garvin

  Miss Loretta complained, “Sookie, I can’t hoist these big titties up in that dadgum tree!”

  “Hush up.” Sookie put her finger in front of Loretta’s pouting mouth. “You can, and you will.”

  Sook barked out directions, and Loretta reluctantly bent low on her knees. Sookie helped me on to her back. I steadied myself and reached for the lowest branch. Loretta grimaced, trying to carry my weight. I grabbed for the next hold, pulling myself up into the twisted canopy.

  “I’ve made it!” I whispered in the dark. “I’m up!”

  “Good. Now keep on climbin’ higher.” Sookie directed me with the beam of yellow light. “OK, Loretta, it’s your turn.”

  Loretta cursed and began stripping. Her pink terry cloth robe dropped to the ground.

  Sookie asked. “What on earth are you doin’?”

  Below, I could see momma almost stark naked, standing in one of her skimpiest pink negligees.

  “You ain’t expectin’ me to climb up that tree in a heavy robe, are you?” She kicked off her fuzzy pink bed slippers.

  Sookie sighed, “Oh, sweet Lord!”

  I called down, “It’s a fine time for you to find religion, Sook.”

  The beam of light captured me like a trapped raccoon. “Hush up! Or everyone on Digby Street will hear your yapping.”

  Loretta placed one foot into the old woman’s cupped hands and hoisted herself and her tits up into the tree. She struggled to find a place to secure a grip. Her sizable bare ass was exposed to all of Savannah.

  Sook stood below, shaking her head in disbelief. “Well, lookie here, we’ve got ourselves a full moon over Georgia tonight.” She projected the flashlight’s beam directly on Loretta’s exposed white ass.

  “Shut your mouth, old woman,” Loretta grumbled as she shimmied further up. “When I get down from this dadgum tree, I’m gonna beat you until you’re dead!”

  “Just keep climbin’,” Sook ordered.

  Suspended high above the sidewalk, Loretta’s arms clung on tight. Her painted finger nails gripped to the bark, and her thick legs wrapped about the branch, her bare feet crossed at the ankles. She cursed, “Sookie, I’m gonna fall and bust my ass on the sidewalk.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Shut your trap and keep climbing.”

  After Loretta found a crevice with ample space for her to plant her rear, Sookie handed her the rusty saw. Scaling up further to the intruding bough, I watched and waited while Sook passed the tool to Loretta, and she stretched to deliver the tool up to me.

  “Poppy, now you’ve gotta get firm footing,” Sookie directed. “Don’t fall and crush my tomato bushes.”

  “OK, Sook.” I positioned myself and the saw and took aim at the overreaching branch.

  “Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” Sook cursed from below. “That damn branch ain’t gonna saw it self. Get to cuttin’ the son of a bitch!”

  The first swipe of the rusted metal teeth only skimmed the thick, twisted branch. I bore down, attempting another pass.

  Sookie complained, “For God’s sake! There must still be some part of a strapping, able boy living beneath your frilly night gown. Get to sawing!”

  Loretta and Sook anxiously watched on through the leaves. With a third try, the rusted blade kinked and stuttered.

  “Slow and steady,” she said. “Poppy, slow and steady.”

  I stroked back and forth as the teeth tore into the meat of the branch. I continued my sawing until my arm began to tire, but Sook encouraged me on from below.

  With each pass, the blade tore deeper.

  Annabelle arrived at the fence, whining at us. Her aching cries cut through the night.

  “Be quiet, you stupid old goat.” Sook picked up one of Miss Loretta’s fuzzy bed slippers and chucked it at Annabelle. “Stop your gawd-damned bawling.”

  Annabelle picked up the slipper and returned to the porch for a midnight snack.

  I was in midstroke when I heard the sound of splitting wood. I peered below at Sook, whose wide-eyed gaze stared back up at me. Then came the sound of ripping and tearing—the heavy branch began to give way.

  “Glory be to God! It’s comin’ down!” Sookie shouted. “Get your asses from that tree quick!”

  In my panic, I yelled into the night, “Timbeeeerrr!”

  The old heavy branch came crashing to the ground.

  With my legs wrapped about the tree, I scurried past Miss Loretta on her way down.

  “Hurry up, Momma!” I hollered. “Hurry up!”

  Loretta was bawling as she scrambled from the tree. Sookie was off, hobbling to the porch for cover.

  The extending bough collapsed to the earth with a thud, obliterating a long section of Sook’s picket fence and landing squarely on her prized garden. It ripped the gutter off the porch fascia and flattened the ornate iron historical street marker on the corner of Digby and West Jones Street.

  Miss Loretta, having finally made her way down, sprinted at a record pace, squealing like a tortured pig, leaving behind a trail of pink plastic curlers up the sidewalk.

  As the lights in the windows along Digby switched on, I was attempting to corral Annabelle into the house.

  Sookie called, “Come on, you fool, quickly, quickly!”

  Suddenly, the porch lights along Digby burned brightly, and folks dressed in their pajamas peeked from the corners of their window blinds and began filtering out through their screen doors. They hollered to one other from their front porches.

  By the time the McAllisters and the rest of the neighbors had progressed down the sidewalk, gathering at the base of the hacked magnolia, Loretta, Sook and I were hiding, bent low, peeking through the front-window curtains.

  A cluster of concerned neighbors collected outside. All the men stood in flannel robes, arms crossed, grimacing and examining the scalped tree, while the women clucked incessantly like chickens, surveying the destruction. Dixie held court in the center of the yapping females. She pointed her rigid finger at the pruned branch, then back over to our sleeping house.

  Sookie scoffed in the dark, “Those ignorant, damned fools can’t pin this on me.”

  Miss Loretta whispered, “Sook, have you gone and blown a gasket? Of course they know it was you.”

  About that time, Dixie McAllister started a direct tract over to the house. She traveled through the remnants of the picket fence, stomping her way through the flattened garden and up the steps of our front porch, clutching in her tight grip what appeared to be a sack or a piece of fabric.

  “Sookie! Sookie Wainwright! I know you’re in there!” Dixie’s knuckles rapped on the front door. “Open up! You’re gonna pay dearly for this!”

  Sookie snickered.

  Dixie pounded her clinched fist on the door. “First thing in the mornin’, the sheriff will be paying you a visit.” She yelled into the narrow crevice of our bolted door. “Perhaps you can explain to him how this trashy pink robe ended up at the base of the tree’s trunk.”

  Loretta gulped hard.

  Sookie went pale.

  The knocking of Sheriff Delany on our front door woke me up early the following morning. I answered and greeted the sheriff, who wore a serious, furrowed brow. Dixie and a few of the ladies had already reconvened outside our front gate, arms crossed, chatting among themselves.

  “Good morning, young lady.” The portly uniformed officer tipped his hat. “May I speak with your aunt Sook?”

  “Yes, sir.” I invited the officer in. He removed his hat and appeared mighty anxious as he fiddled with his buttoned collar.

  “Sookie!” I called up the stairs. “You’ve got company!” I turned to him. “Sheriff, you’re welcome to come wait in the parlor.”

  “Well, good mornin’, Bernard.” Sook appeared at the top of the stairs. She carefully maneuvered each tread. Holding tight to the banister and using her walking stick. She smiled broadly as she made her way down the mahogany staircase, like Dolly Levi herself. “What a delightful surprise,” she greeted him. “What brin
gs you out on such a fine morning?” Aunt Sook’s voice was syrupy sweet. “How is your Annie and those precious babies?”

  “Just fine, Miss Wainwright. They’re all growin’ like bean sprouts.”

  “I bet they are. You come on inside and have a seat with me in the parlor.” She led the officer into her sitting room. “Poppy, go fetch the sheriff some coffee or sweet tea and a piece of pie.”

  “Ain’t necessary, Sook,” he replied. “My Annie says if I don’t cut back on the sweets, I’m going to bust the seams of my trousers.” He rubbed his belted paunch. “Sook, this morning, I received a call from some of your concerned neighbors about the tree out yonder. One of its branches appears to have met a tragic ending.”

  “I know, Sheriff. Tsk, tsk. Isn’t it a terrible tragedy?” My aunt solemnly shook her head. “Bernard, come on in, and have yourself a seat.”

  The big man sat awkwardly in the tiny upholstered chair, looking about the room, nervously. “Now, about the tree…”

  “Yessum, it’s truly a tragedy. I’ve been asking for your boys to patrol Digby for years, and now, look what has transpired. This neighborhood has been on the decline for decades. Just yesterday, I saw one of Dixie McAllister’s fat-headed boys masturbatin’ right in broad daylight. The boy was standing in their front yard, yanking his pecker for the whole world to see. Perhaps you could speak to Carl and Dixie. I’ve got a young, impressionable little girl livin’ here.” Sook pulled me to her side and gently caressed the top of my head. “This unspoiled, innocent child shouldn’t be witnessing such foul obscenities. Ain’t that right, Poppy?” Sook held me in her arms like I was her prized possession. “Ain’t that right?” I felt her sharp elbow poking into my side. “Ain’t that, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered begrudgingly.

  “Sheriff, this angelic child shouldn’t have to view some juvenile delinquent flogging his manhood right out in public. She has never even seen a boy’s unmentionable, but now, Poppy will have to live with that repugnant memory burned into her brain like a red-hot poker. It’s a crying’ shame what has happened to this neighborhood.”

  “OK, Sook. I’ll speak to Carl and Dixie about their boys.”

  “Thank you kindly,” she replied. “If you arrest both those boys and need for me to come down to the jailhouse for a line up, just let me know. The two fat bastards may be a mirror’s image, but I’ll recognize the little pervert’s pecker from a country mile.”

  Sheriff Delany cleared his throat. “Speaking of the McAllister boys, Carl made mention that he believes someone is using his boys as target practice with a pellet gun out yonder. You wouldn’t know nothin’ about that, would ya, Sook?”

  “Oh, my Lord!” She gasped, “What is happening to this neighborhood? A lone gunman?” Sook held out her quaking hands. “These shakes have crippled me so. I can hardly feed myself. I fear I’m gonna wither away.”

  I rolled my eyes out of the sheriff’s view.

  Sheriff Delany opened his small notepad. “OK, Sookie, now, about the magnolia…”

  “Bernie?” Loretta’s voice called out from the foyer. “Bernie, baby, is that really you? I knew I recognized your voice, honey!” Miss Loretta came bouncing into the parlor, dressed in a skin-tight halter and the skimpiest shorts. “Bernie baby! It is you!” She squealed and plopped herself in his lap, smothering the sheriff with kisses. “I can’t believe you’ve come to visit me, baby. Who told you where I lived?”

  The god-smacked sheriff was left with her lipstick all about his face. His eyes darted about the room, and his cheeks turned red as a beat. He squirmed to free himself from Loretta’s grasp. Giving her a slight push, he sent Miss Loretta’s ass to the hard wood floor.

  Dejected, she whined, “Beerrnniiee?”

  “Sheriff, it seems you’re already acquainted with my sweet niece?” Sookie grinned, with the devil in her eye. “She’s been staying with me for a spell.”

  “Why, yes,” the sheriff stammered, tripping on his tongue. “I do believe we’ve been acquainted. Yessum, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Miss Loretta briefly at Charlie’s Tavern.”

  “Baby?” Loretta frowned.

  Tiny beads of perspiration formed along the sheriff’s top lip. He wiped his sweaty forehead with his forearm.

  Pulling Momma from the room, I said, “Miss Loretta, could you come help me pour some tea?”

  She whined low, “Bernie, baby?”

  Outside the parlor, Loretta and I straightened our backs against the paneled wall, listening on.

  “Sheriff, my sweet niece is known throughout all of the South for her obliging disposition,” Sookie remarked. “Loretta is so hospitable that she finds herself a plethora of gentlemen acquaintances in every town she visits.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he stuttered. “I really must head out to the precinct.”

  “Now, sheriff, the moment you leave, I’m gonna phone up your Annie and invite you both over for a fine supper with me and Poppy and Miss Loretta.”

  He cleared a lump lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Annie has been under the weather as of recent,” the flustered sheriff answered. “She’s caught herself a nasty bug.”

  “Well, bless her sweet heart,” Sook declared. “Now, Bernie, what exactly did you need to know about the old magnolia?” Sookie leaned in closer to him. “I have my suspicions that one of Dixie McAllister’s little monsters had a hand in this destruction. If those boys aren’t masturbatin’ in broad daylight, they’re out terrorizing the neighborhood or defacing one of Savannah’s many monuments or historical treasures.”

  The sheriff stuttered, “I’ll take note of that, Miss Wainwright.” He scribbled a note in his small pad while struggling to regain a semblance of composure.

  “Thank you so much, Sheriff Delany.” Aunt Sookie advanced closer to the nervous officer. “On second thought, I won’t bother sweet Annie with any dinner invite, if you can assure me this dust up with the magnolia is put to bed.”

  The sheriff politely tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sookie walked out on to the porch, arm in arm with Sheriff Delany. Speaking loudly enough for Dixie and the other ladies loitering at the front gate to hear, “Thank you so much, Bernard. I’m, simply, heartsick about that magnolia. They are one of God’s most miraculous marvels.” Waving him a farewell, she added, “And could you please send around your boys from the sanitation department to clean up this ugly mess. I am also expectin’ full compensation for my picket fence from the City’s coffers. The hooligans who committed this utter act of vandalism will surely get what’s coming to them.”

  The red-faced sheriff turned and walked a quick pace down the path to the front gate. He frantically fussed with the tricky latch.

  I hollered, “Sheriff, you gotta wiggle the doohickey!”

  “Toodle-loo!” Sookie called. “Bernie, baby, make sure to tell sweet Annie to get plenty of rest. She’s in my prayers.” My aunt shut the front door and slapped her knee. Cackling, she snorted, “Did you see that? Old Sheriff Delany folded like a lawn chair.”

  Loretta swooned, “My Bernie baby is an absolute Southern gentleman. He always opens the door for me. Last Friday night, he even paid for an upgraded room at the Motel 6 with a vibrating mattress and ordered me a rib-eye steak dinner from the room-service menu.”

  “He sounds like a real Ashley Wilkes,” Sook hooted. “I figured the only thing hardening on old Bernard Delany these days were his arteries!”

  Miss Loretta announced, “Bernie confessed his undying love for me.”

  “Missy, that man has himself a wife, five youngins, an old yellah hound, he’s partial to poppin’ a cork, and is the deacon over at the Assembly of God Church!”

  CHAPTER 18

  Pearl Tucker came skipping up the sidewalk. Arriving at our gate, she suspiciously eyed the flattened fence and inspected all the splintered wood pickets lying about and the massive magnolia branch stretching out across our yard.

  Pointing to the calamity
, she asked, “What in tarnation happened here?” She gestured to the magnolia.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It was nothin’. We’re thinkin’ a lightning bolt struck it last night. Sookie!” I hollered. “Pearl and I are headin’ out to Tallulah’s party.”

  “Good riddance!” she called from inside.

  I shrugged my shoulders at Pearl, and the two of us took off up Digby.

  As we were turning on to 52nd Street, a flatbed truck carrying a bed full of young migrant cotton pickers whistled in our direction. As the Ford traveled past, Pearl blew them kisses, and the eager boys stood up in the bed, whistling and waving their arms at us.

  I remarked, “Miss Loretta believes that we girls hypnotize men with our feminine charms. She claims men just can’t help themselves. It’s like a moth to a flame.”

  Pearl kicked a tin can along the sidewalk up 52nd Street. As we strolled under the rows of sprawling oaks, nets of sunlight and shadows cast on her mass of glorious red curls.

  I said. “Loretta says we women are like drippin’ honey to a mean grizzly bear.”

  Pearl booted the can further up the sidewalk. “Well, my momma says if it weren’t for women needing assistance with jumper cables, all men should be shot with a revolver in between the temples.” She gave the cola can one final kick and hollered, “Step on a crack, and you’ll break your momma’s back!”

  Together, we hopped along the pavement, avoiding the veins in the concrete.

  The entry to Victory Drive Estates was protected by two tall, grand gates. The sturdy ornate iron stood opened wide for everyone, but regular folks like Pearl and me felt grateful to be granted entry. Inside the stone wall, rows of mansions sat side by side like stodgy, old gray men, each one more ancient and stately than the next. Pearl’s mouth went slack-jawed as she gazed on the magnificent houses. The square was lined with sprawling oaks that dripped with Spanish moss. The lush park in the center was manicured like a plush carpet, and planting beds bloomed with geraniums and pansies. Each mansion had its own expanse of green grass. Perfect rosebuds bloomed red, yellow, and white.