Dollbaby: A Novel (27 page)

A single light attached to the garage cast a thin yellow line across the yard. Someone was standing in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. When he stepped forward, Ibby saw that it was T-Bone. Then someone else giggled, and an arm that was so white it glowed in the dark reached over and took the cigarette from his mouth. Ibby could just make out Annabelle’s profile as she put her elbow on T-Bone’s shoulder and took a drag from his cigarette.

Ibby was about to march out and give Annabelle a piece of her mind when she heard another voice.

“Why don’t you go back on inside, Miss Annabelle?” Birdelia tugged on Annabelle’s arm, trying to pull her away from T-Bone.

Annabelle yanked her arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

Somewhere in the dark, a deep voice emerged. “Hey, brother, I been looking for you.”

The man was dressed in black trousers and a black T-shirt. His bushy Afro caught the light from the garage as he strode up the driveway.

“Purnell, what the fuck you doing here, man?” T-Bone said.

Purnell came over and slapped T-Bone on the back. “Ain’t you glad to see me? Who’s the white bitch hanging all over you?”

“Shut your mouth, Purnell,” Birdelia said.

Purnell grabbed Birdelia by the shoulder and gave her a hug. “That any way to talk to your uncle, little bird? Last time I saw you, you came up to my shoulders. Now look at you, all growed up.”

“That’s on account you ain’t been around, Uncle. You’d rather hang out with them troublemakers.”

“That’s not true,” Purnell said. “Can’t get a job, that’s all.”

Ibby jerked around when the kitchen door opened. There was a bump, then a crash as a metal tray dropped to the floor.

“For God’s sake, Miss Ibby, what you doing standing there in the dark?” Doll flipped on the light switch.

The voices in the backyard caught Doll’s attention. She went over to the window and stood next to Ibby.

“I’m in a tight spot. I ain’t leaving until I get me some cash,” Purnell said to T-Bone.

“I ain’t got any on me,” T-Bone said.

“Oh, Lawd,” Doll said. “That’s my brother Purnell. I got to get rid of him before Queenie finds out he’s here.”

She opened the screened door and let it bang shut behind her.

“Miss Annabelle, you get on back inside now, you hear me?” Doll pointed toward the house.

“Why should I?”

Doll looked as if she was going to grab Annabelle by the neck and drag her inside herself. “You want me to go fetch your mama?”

“I’m going.” Annabelle dropped the cigarette and started toward the house.

“No, unh-unh, Miss Annabelle. You go on up the driveway and go in the front door.”

After Annabelle left, Doll turned to Purnell. “You know better than to come around here when we at work.”

“I’m in trouble. Understand what I’m saying?” Purnell said.

“This ain’t the place.”

“I ain’t got no choice, sister.”

Doll shoved him. “I got nothing for you. Now, go on. Get out a here.”

Purnell leaned in defiantly. “Want me to march in there, tell all them white folks about you?”

“What you talking about?”

“You know. Think I never figured it out?”

Doll glared at Purnell. “You don’t know nothing. Now here, take this.” She took a few bills from her bra and counted them out. “Now go, before Mama sees you.”

“It ain’t enough,” Purnell said, holding out his hand.

“It’s all I got.”

He shook his head angrily. Ibby thought he was going to get into a fistfight with Doll, but he turned and ran down the driveway, disappearing into the night as fast as he’d come.

T-Bone and Birdelia came in through the back door just as Queenie barreled into the kitchen carrying an empty chafing dish. She set the dish down and yanked Birdelia’s arm. “Come on over here and help me fill this tray. Where’s that daughter of mine?”

Doll came in the back door, perspiring heavily.

“What you doing out back, Doll?” Queenie asked.

“Had to get rid of something, that’s all,” Doll said.

As Doll sat down at the kitchen table, Ibby noticed her hands were shaking as she straightened her hairpiece.

“Doll, something you want to tell me?” Queenie asked.

“No, Mama.”

“You sure?” Queenie eyed her. “Why you sweating? You never sweat.”

“Just a hot night, Mama, that’s all.”

Queenie turned to T-Bone. “Crow ain’t feeding Miss Fannie bourbon, is he?”

He shook his head. “Miss Fannie ain’t the one you need to be worrying about. You seen that nun? She’s out there pounding them old-fashioneds.”

“The last thing we want to do is overserve a nun. Don’t want no trouble tonight.” Queenie shook her head. “T-Bone, get on in there and make sure that don’t happen. Do something to liven up the party.”

“What you want me to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know”—Queenie handed a tray to Birdelia—“but think of something quick. The last time I looked, Mr. Waguespack was doing a slow waltz with Sister Gertrude as Fannie sang a rendition of ‘You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans.’”

Birdelia followed T-Bone out of the kitchen.

Doll drummed her fingers on the table. “You know, Mama, they is something strange about that nun. She ain’t no normal run-a-the-mill nun.”

“Everybody acting all crazy tonight. Just like you. You ain’t yourself this evening. You sure they ain’t something you want to tell me?”

“No, Mama.”

“Miss Ibby, why you still in here?” She waved her hand. “Miss Fannie didn’t go to all this trouble for you to be sitting here in the kitchen.” Her head shot up when some music started playing. “T-Bone bring a piano player with him?”

“Not that I recollect,” Doll said.

“Then who’s that playing Professor Longhair?”

Ibby and Doll began snapping their fingers to the sound of “Big Chief,” a tune that in New Orleans had become synonymous with having a good time. Whenever it was played, the locals tended to get up and dance.

Doll peeked through the door. “Mama, you got to come see this. You ain’t gone believe it.”

The three of them stuck their heads through the door. Birdelia was standing at one end of the dining room table with a stack of linen napkins in her hands, passing them out to the party guests, who were fashioning them into do-rags by tying the four corners into knots and placing them on their heads. When Ibby had first seen this, at a party a few years back, she thought everybody had had too much to drink—they danced around with do-rags on their heads, waving napkins in their hands. Now she was just as likely to join right in and dance along with them.

“Look at Mr. Rainold! I didn’t know he could play the piano!” Queenie mused.

Mr. Rainold had taken off his jacket, his red suspenders dangling by his sides, as he stood, banging away at the piano. T-Bone was leading a line of napkin-headed people around the room, his trombone swinging up and down to the rhythm as Sister Gertrude brought up the rear, doing a little jig.

“Well, I’ll be,” Queenie said, watching Crow clap his hands and whistle.

Doll pulled Ibby into the dining room. As soon as Fannie saw her, she grabbed Ibby’s hand and dragged her into the second line. They danced around a good half an hour, until Queenie came into the dining room carrying the birthday cake. The crowd gathered around the table and sang “Happy Birthday” as Queenie lit the candles. Fannie raised a glass.

“To my lovely granddaughter on her sixteenth birthday.”

Ibby paused a moment, holding her breath, hoping Fannie wasn’t going to surprise her with another birthday doll.

“Well, what are you waiting on, dear?” Fannie said.

Ibby breathed a sigh of relief and blew out the candles.

It isn’t such a bad party after all,
Ibby was thinking as Queenie cut the cake.

After Ibby said her goodbyes to the last guest, she stood in the hall and gazed absentmindedly through the glass in the front door.

Doll came up and stood next to her. “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“Yes, you is,” Doll said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re disappointed your mama didn’t show up.”

Ibby hated how Doll could always see right through her. “No, I’m not.”

“Then how come you got that poor-pitiful-me look on your face when you should have a that-was-a-right-fine-party look?”

“I couldn’t care less if my mother came or not,” Ibby said.

“That ain’t true, but Miss Ibby, no use crying over spilled milk. Miss Fannie went out of her way to throw this party for you, sent out fancy invitations, had the house painted, fixed up the yard. She’s never done that for anyone before. You should be happy.”

Ibby didn’t want to listen to Doll anymore, even though she knew she was right. She went upstairs to her room.

A little while later, Doll came up to find her. “Here, I brought you something.”

Doll handed Ibby the life-size doll she’d made her for her birthday, dressed in an exact replica of the dress she had worn this evening, down to the corsage and white gloves.

Ibby flung the doll onto the floor.

“Listen”—Doll wagged a finger—“you lucky she didn’t give it to you in front of all those people. If she had her way, that’s what she would have done, but I talked her out of it.”

“I hate those dolls!”

“You gone hurt my feelings.”

“Why does Fannie keep giving me dolls? I’m too old for dolls. They’re weird.”

Doll picked the doll up from the floor and brushed the yarn hair to the side. “These dolls are Fannie’s way of showing she loves you. One day you’ll understand.”

“Why can’t I just have a normal life like everybody else?” Ibby said.

“Normal? What’s normal? You think everybody at that party tonight got a normal life? We all got something we don’t like, that we want to change.” Doll pointed a finger. “Miss Ibby, I’m gone tell you something you may not want to hear. It’s about time you grew up. They ain’t such thing as normal, and I ought to know. Your grandmother loves you. And if you can see it in your heart to let her in, she’ll more than make up for your mama not being here for you. Understand?”

Ibby sat up and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “You think I’m a brat?”

“I think you’re a sixteen-year-old that’s mixed up like any sixteen-year-old. Which brings me to another thing. You can’t go kissing no black boys in front of Miss Fannie, even if it is T-Bone, you understand me? It just ain’t right.”

“Why can’t I kiss T-Bone if I want to?”

“Well, for one thing, he’s family. And for another, white girls shouldn’t be kissing black boys. You need to find a nice white boy to kiss.”

“But I like T-Bone,” Ibby said.

“Miss Ibby, how can I make you understand?”

“He told me I was pretty.”

Doll shook her head. “Miss Ibby, lots of boys gone tell you you’re pretty. The first time someone told me I was pretty, nine months later I had Birdelia. We don’t want nothing like that to happen to you. Now you go on and get some sleep.” When Doll came over to kiss Ibby good night, her foot hit something under the bed.

“What’s this?” She reached down. “Miss Fannie’s photo album. I thought I told you to hide that thing.”

“I did. Under the bed,” Ibby said.

She sat next to Ibby on the bed and started flipping through the pages.

“What are you doing?” Ibby asked.

“There’s been something on my mind all night. Where’s that ad with Miss Fannie, the one that has the other lady with the alligator?”

“Toward the back,” Ibby said.

“Here it is.” Doll unfolded it and smoothed it out. “Uh-huh—thought so.”

“What?” Ibby asked.

“Something about that other woman look familiar?”

“No, not really.”

Doll pointed at a photo. “Look at Gertie the Gator Girl.”

Ibby stared at the tall broad-shouldered woman with her foot on top of the alligator. “Yeah, so?”

“Look again, real close. Something about her mouth.”

Ibby still didn’t understand what Doll was getting at.

“Miss Fannie never did say how she knew Sister Gertrude. Now I know why.”

Ibby’s mouth fell open. “That’s Sister Gertrude?” Then it hit her. “Fannie told me Sister Gertrude taught her how to dance. Now I know what she meant!”

“They say the Lawd works in mysterious ways,” Doll said. “And this sure is one of them.”

L
ater that week Ibby was in the kitchen watching Birdelia practice some dance moves out on the back porch when Queenie set a box on the table in front of her.

“What’s that?” Ibby asked.

“Miss Fannie ordered stationery so you can write thank-you notes to everybody that came to the party,” Queenie said.

“But there were over a hundred people there! That could take me all summer!” Ibby protested.

“I believe that’s the point. Give you something to do so you stay out a trouble. Besides, you can thank your friend Winnie Waguespack for giving her the idea. She the one that sent you that thank-you note after her party.”

“Why don’t you just tell Fannie I wrote them and be done with it? Be our little secret,” Ibby suggested.

Queenie shook her head. “That won’t do. Miss Fannie say she want to see them when you finished.”

Ibby opened the box to find engraved monogram note cards.

“Look at that—your initials are LAB, for Liberty Alice Bell. Like one of them Labrador hunting dogs,” Queenie chuckled.

Ibby closed the lid. “Don’t remind me. Annabelle Friedrichs
discovered that my first day of school, when she saw the monogram on the collar of my uniform. She’s been barking at me in the hall ever since.”

Birdelia stuck her head through the back door. “Tell Mama I be back in a little while.”

“Where you off to?” Queenie wiped her hands on her apron.

“I might go over to Audubon Park,” Birdelia said.

“Now listen here,” Queenie fussed at her. “T-Bone just got that part-time job over at the Audubon Stables. Don’t go messing it up for him while he’s at work.”

“Can I come?” Ibby asked.

“If you want.” Birdelia shrugged.

“What about your thank-yous, Miss Ibby?” Queenie asked.

“I can do those later.” Ibby followed Birdelia out the back door. “Or never.”

Queenie opened the screened door and called out after them, “You hear what I say, Birdelia? Don’t go messing around with T-Bone while he’s at work.”

“Yes’m.” Birdelia gave a backhanded wave and kept walking.

Birdelia headed toward Magazine Street, a few blocks from Fannie’s house toward the river. When they got to the stables, they went around back, where they found T-Bone hosing down one of the horses.

“Why you all here?” T-Bone asked.

Birdelia reached up and grabbed a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Just came to see how you doing.”

“Why don’t y’all go on up by the river, near the Butterfly? I’ll meet you there in about twenty minutes, when I get off.”

“Why you whispering?” Birdelia asked as she lit the cigarette.

A high-pitched voice called out from inside the barn, “Why isn’t my horse saddled yet?”

Annabelle Friedrichs sauntered out of the stables, dressed in tight black riding pants that barely contained her fat rear end.

“Well, who have we here?” Annabelle eyed Birdelia savagely before approaching Ibby. “You got a horse here?”

“I’m thinking about getting one,” Ibby shot back. “I wanted to check out the stables before I decided.”

It was a lie of course, but Ibby was determined not to let Annabelle get the best of her.

“Well, you can’t keep it here—the stables are full,” she said smugly before turning toward T-Bone. “Hurry up and saddle my horse. I don’t have all day.”

“Yes, Miss Annabelle,” T-Bone said as he walked into the barn.

“Why don’t you go and help get my horse ready?” Annabelle said to Birdelia.

“I don’t work here,” Birdelia said.

“She’s with me,” Ibby said defiantly.

Annabelle tapped the side of her leg with her riding stick. “Oh, I forgot. Ibby Bell always was a nigger lover.”

T-Bone must have heard Annabelle’s comment because he came out of the barn looking so angry, Ibby thought he might smack Annabelle. Instead, he led her horse out calmly and handed her the reins.

“Here you go, miss.”

“Aren’t you going to help me up on the saddle?”

T-Bone gave Annabelle a lift up. After she trotted off, he headed back inside the barn without a word.

Birdelia turned to Ibby. “My grandma has a saying: ‘Ugly is as ugly does.’ That Annabelle one big fat ugly.”

They walked to the back of the park toward the river, where they passed the zoo and the public swimming pool with the padlocked gates. When they crossed over the levee, they came upon a big open field. At the far end, near the river, was a concession stand that looked like a butterfly, with wings jutting out on either side. Birdelia stopped to buy a snowball.

“You want one?” She licked the red syrup off the side of the paper cup.

“No thanks,” Ibby said. She was still thinking about the way Annabelle had spoken to T-Bone. It had left a sour taste in her mouth.

Birdelia led Ibby to some steps that went down to the batture of the river. They sat on large boulders the Army Corps of Engineers had placed around the river’s edge to keep erosion at bay. Beyond the rocks was a small beach of river mud littered with garbage where pigeons were scavenging. The water lapped against the rocks as a tugboat pushing a grain barge let out a whistle as it passed under the Mississippi River Bridge, scaring up the pelicans perched in the rafters.

After a while, T-Bone came down to the batture to join them. He lit a cigarette.

“I’m sorry about the way Annabelle acted just now,” Ibby said.

T-Bone gave her a small sideways glance. “Used to it.”

Everyone sat in their own thoughts, watching the river. Ibby could tell T-Bone was angry, even if he tried to pretend he wasn’t. Birdelia stood up on the boulder and began throwing pebbles at the pigeons. When they scattered, she skimmed a stone across the water, where it skipped several times before disappearing beneath the surface.

“We got company.” Birdelia pointed behind T-Bone.

Three colored boys about T-Bone’s age approached. One of them had on a jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, even though it was at least ninety degrees outside.

“Hey, man,” the boy said to T-Bone as the two other boys hovered behind him.

“What you want, Peanut?” T-Bone said.

Peanut narrowed his eyes. “Say, what you doin’ with that cracker?”

T-Bone shook his head. “She ain’t with me, man. That’s Birdelia’s friend.”

Birdelia whispered to Ibby, “They nervous ’cause they not used to being around no white girl, that’s all. To them, all white folks is trouble. Just don’t say nothing, or they might pick a fight with T-Bone.”

The boy pulled a plastic bag from his jacket pocket. “Got me some bitching weed. Twenty for the lid.”

T-Bone shook his head.

“Hey, man, got to sell this shit. You don’t want a whole lid, how about half?” Peanut pulled a joint from his pocket and handed it to T-Bone. “Try it.”

“How I know it’s the same shit that’s in the bag?” T-Bone asked.

Peanut took out a pack of rolling papers from his pocket. He handed the bag to one of his companions, who held it open for him while he pulled out some weed. He was about to roll a joint when they heard a whistle. Ibby looked up to find a policeman standing on the retaining wall, pointing down at them with a billy club.

“You, down there in the jacket—what’s that in your hand?” the policeman yelled.

The boy dropped the bag as if it were on fire. “Nothing.”

Ibby felt a tug on her sleeve. Everyone began to run.

“I know her,” Ibby heard someone say.

It was that voice again.

Annabelle Friedrichs was sitting high up on her horse, looking over the edge, pointing down at Ibby with her riding stick.

Ibby ran as fast as her feet would carry her, up over the seawall, past the railroad tracks, through the park, but somewhere along the way, she lost Birdelia. At Prytania Street, she stopped and bent over, trying to get rid of the stitch in her side. She glanced around, out of breath. When she was sure no one was chasing her, she walked the rest of the way.

By the time Ibby got to Fannie’s, Birdelia was standing by the back door as if she were afraid to go in. Crow was standing just inside the door. Ibby could see Doll in the kitchen with her arm around Queenie’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Ibby whispered to Birdelia.

“My uncle, Purnell. Poppy says he’s been shot.”

Fannie came into the kitchen and placed a hand on Crow’s shoulder and handed him an envelope. “This should take care of it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“Thank you kindly, Miss Fannie,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

Doll tried to rouse Queenie from the stool. “Come on now, Mama—we got to go to the hospital.”

Crow went over to Queenie and slid his arm around her middle.

Doll tried to lift her up by her arms. “Come on, Mama.”

Birdelia went in and grabbed her grandmother’s hand and tugged at it. “Come on, Mee-maw, we got to go.”

“My baby, my baby, my baby,” was all Queenie was saying, over and over.

T-Bone appeared at the back door, sweating. “What’s going on?”

“Come on over here and help Mama get to the car,” Doll said.

Birdelia whispered to T-Bone, “Purnell.”

That was all Birdelia had to say.