Girls Like Us Read online

“Who?”

  Biddy look ’round all wild-eyed. Then I swear, she push down her cover and pull up her T-shirt and scrabble at her panties like she checkin’ to see that she got ’em on. Then she let out a big sigh.

  I seen I still was holding that knife up like I was going to stab somebody, so I let it down. “You screamin’ ’cause you think you wet the bed?”

  Biddy put her fists up to her eyes and cry like a little child. Somewhere in there, she say, “They not here. I dreamed ’em. They not here.”

  It was like she was tryin’ to make her ownself believe it.

  I didn’t know what to think. But I knew one thing. That girl was plumb scared to death.

  Quincy didn’t holler at me for waking her up. She ask if I wet the bed. I told her I don’t pee my pants. I am scaredy of the dark. Quincy said, “Fool, get you a night-light or keep the hall light on.”

  “But that runs up the ’lectricity. Granny said so,” I told her.

  Quincy roll her eyes up in her head. “You paying the bills now, not Granny.”

  “I can keep me a light on? So there’s no dark places in my room?”

  “Long as you don’t mess around in my room, you can light this whole apartment up.” Quincy shook her head. “Guess as long as nothing needs killin’, I’ll put this knife back in the kitchen.”

  She left the hall light on. And her door open.

  When I wake up, I went over to Lizabeth’s house to fix breakfast. I stir up some oatmeal and found oranges and a juicer. I made the fresh juice, brew a pot of tea, and cut pears and apples and mix ’em with red grapes. I squeeze a little orange juice over the fruit. Then I made coffee. I like me some coffee in the morning. I put a blue-and-red-plaid tablecloth on the kitchen table and found white dishes with a blue stripe ’round the edges. I set ’em on the table with a white linen napkin. I run outside to pick a couple of daisy flowers I saw blooming in the side yard and ’range ’em in the skinny glass vase.

  I didn’t have to call Lizabeth. She must heard me rattling ’round, and she thump in with her walker. She smile when she saw the table looking bright and purty. “Where’s your places?”

  I give her my “Huh?” face.

  “There’s no reason for you and Biddy to carry your food to your apartment. Please join me for breakfast.”

  I didn’t understand this ole woman. Why she want two Speddies, ones she don’t know for boo or squat, sitting at her breakfast table? We just the hired help.

  Biddy poke her big face in the back door.

  “You’re just in time,” Lizabeth say. “Quincy is setting your places.”

  Biddy smile like she pleased as punch. She come in wearing her nasty ole coat. “G’morning, Miss Lizzy. I’m ready to clean this place up proud.”

  I don’t know what else to do, so I set two more places at the table and put out the food. Biddy help Lizabeth settle in her chair.

  “Doesn’t this look good,” Lizabeth say.

  “I didn’t know if you want tea or coffee, so I made both,” I say kinda low-like.

  “I drink tea. I keep coffee in case I have a guest that likes it.”

  I stay husht. I ain’t never been no guest.

  She smile at us and sip her orange juice. Lizabeth start talking ’bout I can put coffee on her grocery list. And she say she would buy the food for all our meals. I open my mouth to squawk, but she turnt to look at me and said, “Is that all right with you, Quincy? I don’t want to offend you with this offer.”

  She give me a “You know what I mean” look. It wasn’t no charity. It was a bonus for my good cooking. I snap my mouth shut.

  Biddy was ’bout finished with her oatmeal and eyeing the fruit like it drop down from Mars. “I always have cookies and a Pepsi for breakfast.”

  “And I usually have a piece of toast, so this is a treat for both of us,” Lizabeth said. She pet Biddy’s hand and Biddy glow.

  Lizabeth say we’d have to work us out some menus. She say she has her groceries delivered and she would do the ordering. She ask can I bring home the fresh stuff from the Brown Cow.

  I nod.

  “Thank you,” Lizabeth say.

  “Ain’t nothing big,” I say back.

  Biddy give me her “Cain’t you be nice to nobody?” look. If that fool think somebody saying thank you mean they like you, she need to smarten up. But she been needing to smarten up since she was borned.

  Then Lizabeth said, “Quincy, you can take the vegetables you like from the garden, or you can make a list and Stephen can make a basket for you on the days that he comes here.”

  I guess Biddy didn’t hear, because she was still smilin’, but I got all wadded up in a worry knot. Who was Stephen?

  Lizabeth tole Biddy they could set up a schedule for what need doing in the house.

  Biddy nod, all happy, and set her spoon to flashing in the fruit.

  “Mercy, this is good,” she say. “I never saw fruit all mix up together like this.”

  “You eat what I be cookin’, ’stead of junk, you gonna lose that ole rhino hino,” I say. Even I thought my mouth sound snappish.

  “Quincy.” Lizabeth said it soft, but it husht and shame me. Then she tole Biddy that she need to have good nutrition and I didn’t mean to sound so “harsh.” I guess “harsh” the same as mean. She tole Biddy I was right, and eating my good food would make her lose weight. And then she say, “Biddy, won’t you be pretty as a picture?”

  Woo, I sure didn’t expect what came next. Biddy slap her spoon down and reach in her jacket and jerk out a bag of cookies. She start stuffing cookies in her mouth fast as she could chew. “No!” she yell, and bust out in tears. Bawling her lungs out and stuffing those cookies in at the same time. She shove back and run right out that kitchen.

  Everything was nice till Miss Lizzy said that I was gonna be pretty. Pretty is what made it happen. I can still hear ’em whispering in my ear. “You so pretty. You body so fine. You so hot, baby.” I hear ’em in the night. I hear ’em every time a boy look at me.

  Lizabeth and me stare at one another. I open my mouth to say sumpin’ and she raise her bony claw hand up like a traffic cop. I shut my mouth and sull up.

  “Go on to work, Quincy. And don’t say anything to Biddy. I’ll take care of it.”

  Sure. Dumb, mean Speddie only good enough to cook. Not smart enough to do much else. I know what she thinkin’. She don’t fool me with her smiling and inviting and thank-yous.

  I slap out the kitchen and stomp on up our stairs. I hear Biddy in her room, blubbering into her tape maybe. I get my clothes and head for the shower-closet, and I hear Lizabeth call up from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Biddy, you’ve neglected to clean the kitchen. In fact, I want all the kitchen cabinets cleaned. Could you think about tackling that today?”

  I hear Biddy punch her tape off and clomp to the stairs. “You mean, take out all the dishes and such?” She snuff her nose sumpin’ awful.

  “Yes, I missed spring cleaning. I’d appreciate a good top-to-bottom clean of this whole place. Starting with the kitchen.”

  I wait by the bathroom door until Biddy turnt around. Her face was red and her eyes were swole but she stopped bawlin’. Lizabeth already figured out the one thing that would make Biddy feel better. Cleaning out dirt.

  I got on over to Miss Lizzy’s. Pushed up my sleeves. She sat in the kitchen with me. She told me which cabinets she wanted clean. First was the pots and pans cabinets. Some pans was orangey color. They hung on a big round rack from the ceiling. I stacked all the pots and pans on the counters. I got me a bucket with cleaner and water. Scrubbed the cabinet out good. I filled the sink with soapy water. I washed and dried each pot. I tucked it back in its place.

  I got four cabinets done. Lunchtime come.

  Miss Lizzy had canned stew in the pantry. I knew how to fix that OK. I heat it up. I got crackers. I thought how Quincy made the table look pretty. I shook out the tablecloth from breakfast. I got fresh napkins, bowls, and spoons. Miss Li
zzy told me which side for the napkin and spoon. I plunked the crackers on the table in the box. Miss Lizzy didn’t say nothing. But I know it didn’t look right. I snatched the box back up.

  “There’s a lovely plate right above the bowls that might look nice for crackers,” Miss Lizzy said.

  We ate stew. Miss Lizzy talked. “Tell me about yourself, Biddy. Ms. Delamino said that you lived with your grandmother.”

  “Yes, ’um.”

  “And your mother is still living?”

  “Yes, ’um. But she don’t want me.”

  Miss Lizzy reach out and squeeze my hand. “Life can be cruel sometimes, can’t it, Biddy?”

  All my life, Granny told me that my mama left me behind because I was worthless. And teachers said my mama must love me very much, but felt she couldn’t give me a good life. I might be moderate retardation, but I ain’t dumb enough to believe neither.

  And I for sure know what cruel means. Miss Lizzy made me feel like a regular person when she said that. She didn’t spout me no lies. She said a true thing. Life be cruel. Peoples be cruel sometimes too. I wonder how Miss Lizzy know that as good as me.

  Biddy went on down to Lizabeth. I took me a shower and dressed in the brown pants and white shirt the Brown Cow give me to wear in the store. I hear Ms. D. honk, and I left to start work at my new job.

  Ms. D. introduce me to the store manager. He give me papers to sign, and Ms. D. tole me what all they mean. I sign and we go meet the lady bakery workers. The bakery ain’t just a bakery; it has all kind of food. Salads and roast chickens and vegetables and soups and such. One of the ladies tell me and Ms. D. that I’m gonna be doin’ “prep” for now. She start explaining, but I stop her talking by saying, “You want me chopping the onions and celery and measuring out the ingredients and such as that.”

  The lady cut a look at Ms. D., then she say I was right. She hand me an apron and point to a chopping table. Ms. D. tap me on the shoulder and kind of nudge me into a little corner. “Quincy,” she say close to my ear. “Try to be friendlier to these women. Don’t interrupt when someone is giving you instructions.”

  “That woman think I’m stupid,” I say.

  “Quincy, not every word a person says is an insult. Try not to fight the world and everybody in it.”

  Ms. D. work with Speddies, but she ain’t one and don’t know what it like. I flap the apron out and work at tyin’ it ’round my waist. I didn’t look at Ms. D. Then she step up and hug me ’round my shoulders. I stiff up and tears sting my eyes. I don’t like touching, that’s all.

  Ms. D. sigh and say, “Good luck, Quincy.” Then she left.

  I look up at the lady. “You want these onions chop, dice, or mince?”

  After lunch, Miss Lizzy said I can have time to myself while she take a nap. Then we’ll do her exercise. Miss Lizzy told me her inside ear make her balance bad. That’s why she use her walker — so she don’t get dizzy and tump over. To help her get better, she does exercise. But she needs me to help her tie cheese. I didn’t say nothing. If Miss Lizzy think tying cheese will help her not be dizzy, then I’ll help her tie cheese.

  I cut and chop and mince and dice and mix most of the morning, then I clean and sort stuff in the back. The work ladies, Ellen and Jen, tole me I was a good worker. Like that surprise me.

  I got some potatoes, leeks, cream, and a loaf of fresh French bread that been teasin’ my nose all day, charge them to Lizabeth, and head for home.

  The sacker with a long, greasy ponytail and skinny little beard look me over when I was checking out and made a snort in his nose.

  “They shore hiring ’em ugly lately,” he said.

  Shoot-a-goose, I be used to hearing stuff about my face. I pick up my sack and say, cool as you please, “Look like they hired ’em ugly before me too.”

  His neck turn red and he look at me real mean. “Bitch,” he say, real low, but he say it with a pop. It make me feel like he wanted to bite a hunk out of me. He had that evil face that Mama’s boyfriend had right before he grabbed up that brick.

  I turnt around and hurried out the store. Once I put enough geography between me and the store, I forgot that boy a little bit. I couldn’t let somebody scare me on my first day. When I got to the ’partment, Biddy was talking into her tape with door closed. I change clothes and took the groceries to Lizabeth’s. That girl been a cleaning fool. It was clean this morning, but now that kitchen sparkle and smell like — umm, sort of — a cool day after a rain shower. I couldn’t get a oven or a floor that clean if I work two weeks. The girl got herself a talent.

  I peel the potatoes and set ’em to boil, rub a wood bowl with garlic, mix up a salad, and slice my French bread. I set the table purty, and when the potatoes ready, I finish the soup and call the hogs to the trough.

  Biddy help Lizabeth to her chair, and they dip they spoons into the soup.

  “There’s grass in mine,” Biddy say.

  “Fool,” I say. “That’s a parsley sprig. It’s call a garnish. You don’t got to eat it.”

  “What’s it for, then?”

  I roll my eyes up and Lizabeth say, “It’s to make the soup attractive and give it a bit of extra flavor, Biddy. And, it shows us that Quincy sees her cooking as an art and that she’s proud of it.”

  I squint my eyes, trying to study if Lizabeth be making fun of me. Too soon to tell.

  “Quincy,” Lizabeth said, “this is a lovely soup and it’s so smooth.”

  “I run the potatoes and the cream through the blender before I add it to the white sauce in the pot,” I say. “I don’t like no chunks of potato lumping ’round in my soup.”

  “Yes, I prefer it this way too. It’s wonderful.”

  Biddy was lapping her soup and using her spoon like a shovel.

  Lizabeth look at Biddy, then over at me. She say this was a meal like a princess would eat, and we ought to pretend we in long dresses at a fancy dinner and use “company manners.”

  Biddy look up with her mouth open and half full of soup.

  Lizabeth talk on ’bout a princess would sit with her back straight and on the front of the chair. Lizabeth was already like that. Biddy hitch up her back and waggle her big ole butt forward.

  Lizabeth pick up her spoon and say that a princess hold her spoon pretty and dip it in the soup, and a princess would spoon away from her body. Then she dip her spoon into her soup and held the spoon up. Biddy turnt her grip on the spoon so that she wasn’t holding it in her fist, but on her fingers, and spoon her soup just like Lizabeth did.

  “And a princess brings the spoon to her mouth, not her mouth to the spoon,” Lizabeth tole her. Biddy tried. Her head kept pulling down to the bowl, and she look like one of them toys that duck in and out of a water glass. When she finally got how to keep her head up, the soup slop off the spoon.

  “A princess fills her spoon half full so she can take dainty princess sips.”

  A smile march right ’crosst Biddy’s face. She try the whole thing again, and this time got her some soup into her mouth.

  Lizabeth kept up her chatter, showing how a princess would use a salad fork and how to break the bread into little pieces rather than tear at a whole slice with her teeths. Biddy was having herself a high ole time pretending she be some kind of fancy lady.

  I got me good table manners. Mr. Hallis show me all that when he taught me cooking. He didn’t talk no stuff ’bout no princess.

  I ain’t White Trash. Miss Lizzy said I’m a princess. And a princess don’t wear a coat full-up with food. I’m going to push it in nextside the hangers at the back of my closet. I’ll just wear it if I have to go in the world.

  We went back to our little apartment and I tole Biddy we need to have us a talk. She nod her head and plop down on the couch. More like she set perched on it with a straight back, like Lizabeth just taught her. Got to admit, the girl hold tight to things oncet she learn ’em.

  “Biddy, we got to have us some rules.”

  Biddy nod again. She even got that Liza
beth smile on her face.

  “It’s about menfolk.”

  That smile drop off her face like — I don’t know the word, but like you drop a rock into a bucket.

  “Menfolks?”

  “See, the whole world know about you and menfolk. What you do with men is your bidness — but I got me a right not to want ’em ’round here.” I point to the dent in my head. “Sometimes folk get hurt from other people’s men hanging around.”

  Biddy surprise me then. She didn’t start no crying or snatch up a cleaning rag. Her look sat with a backbone inside it.

  “Quincy, when you see me with boys or menfolk?”

  My mouth open, but my words seize up. I thought hard a minute. Since seventh grade, I ain’t never seen Biddy having no truck with boys. They call her names, but she don’t talk to none of them. In fact, she don’t even look at any kind of man. My brain got addled.

  “I guess I hasn’t.” I kind of jut out my chin and sound mad, so she don’t think I’m wrong or nothing.

  Biddy stand up. “Well, then.” And she turnt her back and walk off into her bedroom and shut the door.

  Seems to me, other peoples in this world got as much trouble learning as I do.

  Biddy march off to her room and shut her door. Left me there with my mouth hanging. Back in school with people watching or poking at her, Biddy would have thrown some kind of fit, or get her feelings hurt and run off crying. But after Lizabeth tell her she a princess, just one little time, Biddy be a whole ’nother person. It like she and Lizabeth be some kind of team together.

  I stomp off to my room, but thinking ’bout Biddy’s straight princess back and how Lizabeth pet Biddy’s hand and be all gooey with her piss me plumb off. I slammed my door hard enough for Biddy to hear.

  I thump down on my bed. My clock say it just six thirty. I ain’t got no new comic to read. We don’t got a TV. What I’m supposed to do? Knit like some ole lady? I don’t know how to knit, and who need a sweater in Texas?