God Still Don’t Like Ugly Page 11

  A good sign.

  CHAPTER 26

  I

  never thought I would see the day that I’d be glad I’d accepted a date with Jacob Brewster. But Jacob wasn’t the reason I was feeling so frisky now.

  The stranger who had come over to me seemed to glow more than the lights on a lopsided Christmas tree propped up in a corner, obscuring a poster of Ronald Reagan on the wall.

  “I don’t know any of these new dances, either,” he told me, flashing some of the whitest, straightest teeth I’d ever seen in my life. “I’m Jerome Cunningham. And you are?” He was so polite, it startled me. My eyes got wide and I held my breath as I looked around to make sure he was talking to me. He grabbed my limp hand and shook it.

  “Hi, Jerome. I’m Annette,” I said, coughing to clear my throat. Handsome men rarely approached me. Well, they never approached me. And this one was breathtaking. He was tall and even in his smart suit, I could see that he was nicely built. He had light brown skin and a helmet of curly, dark brown hair. His lips were a little too thin for my tastes but his small, slanted eyes were dazzling. I couldn’t believe he was addressing me. I quickly scanned the room. Since I was the only Black woman present, I assumed he had either come with one of the attractive white women or alone.

  “You want another drink?” he asked, frowning at the empty glass sitting on the coffee table in front of me.

  “Oh, no. I’ve had enough,” I said quickly, holding up my hand. The last thing I wanted to do was get drunk. Pee Wee had not visited me in a while and I was righteously horny that night. Jacob didn’t appeal to me that way, but I still didn’t trust myself alone with him without a clear head. He had already goosed my butt a few times, telling me he couldn’t wait to get me back to my house because he had a big surprise for me. He had put a lot of emphasis on the word big. I had a big surprise for him, too: he wasn’t getting into my house or me this particular night or any other night. I wasn’t that desperate as long as I remained sober.

  “Then how about something to eat? Have you tried that pasta salad?” Jerome looked me up and down, smiling with approval. His knee was dangerously close to mine. I didn’t even try to imagine what was going through his mind. I placed a throw pillow on my lap because I didn’t want him to see that my thighs were taking up twice as much room on the couch as his.

  “As you can see, I haven’t missed too many meals,” I laughed. Sometimes, joking about my weight myself made it easier for me to deal with. “I’m the last one in here that needs to be eating.”

  “In some countries, large women are revered. They even have ceremonies in some of the villages in Africa to fatten the skinny women up before they marry them off.” Jerome sniffed and looked me over some more. “Every woman in my family is stout. My grandmother was so big, she couldn’t even get out of the bed the last year of her life. My daddy, may he rest in peace, loved my big-legged, big-hipped mama. Me, I feel like he did: the more there is of the woman, the more there is to love.”

  I was really feeling frisky now. “I’ve already tried that pasta salad and it’s nothing to write home about.” I leaned toward him and whispered conspiratorially, “White folks don’t know the first thing about cooking. I don’t even know what that green stuff in that black bowl is.”

  “Turkey dressing,” Jerome whispered back, wiggling his nose.

  We both laughed.

  “I never would have guessed that. I can’t wait to get my hands on some decent food again,” I said, feeling so at ease I felt I could say anything to this man.

  “Well, in that case, you have to let me fix dinner for you one evening soon. My mama’s folks come from Louisiana so you know we all know how to burn. Would you let me do that, Annette?”

  “Okay,” I said meekly.

  My head started spinning when it dawned on me that this handsome man had asked me for a date. I thought I’d lose my mind when he slid his arm around my shoulder. I don’t know how I did it, but somehow I managed to remain composed. I removed the pillow from my lap and smoothed my dress, resting my hand on my knee. I froze when Jerome took my hand in his and squeezed it. No man had ever done that to me before in my life. Not even Mr. Boatwright or Pee Wee. I was certain that Jerome noticed the sweat on my palm, but he was too nice to acknowledge it.

  “Looks like you and I are not the only ones here who don’t know the new dances, Annette.” He motioned toward two women dancing together, practically knocking everybody else off the floor. “I love to watch white folks dance, don’t you? They hop around the dance floor like blind rabbits.”

  I laughed again. I was proud of the fact that I was laughing for the first time in weeks.

  “These are some nice people, though. But they are fun to watch. You haven’t seen anything ’til you’ve seen them do the bump.” We laughed again. My hand was still in Jerome’s and he was squeezing it even harder. I wondered what he was up to. I knew from experience that most men would fuck a goat. If sex was what he was after, he had come to the right place. He could have slid me down on that couch and had his way with me right in front of that whole room full of people.

  And I would have enjoyed it.

  CHAPTER 27

  “L

  ord have mercy! I have seen these white folks try to do the bump but that’s what they always do, no matter whatever else they call themselves doing when they get on a dance floor.” Jerome shook his head and laughed. “One night I was watching The Dinah Shore Show and she got loose. I thought my television set was going to fall off the stand. Now, I can do a mean bump, but I don’t want to get up there and make a fool of myself doing a dance that goes back that far.”

  Just then, a tall, blond woman bumped into the coffee table, knocking several drinks to the floor. “See what I mean?” We laughed again. By now I had laughed so much my chest was aching. “You’re Albert King’s daughter, aren’t you?”

  “Stepdaughter. He married my mama not too long ago. My real daddy lives in Florida.” I couldn’t believe how comfortable I felt talking to Jerome. I cleared my throat and crossed my ankles, hoping I looked as dainty as some of the pretty white women prancing around the room. I knew that I didn’t and never would, but the way Jerome was looking at me, I felt like I did. “You must be new in town. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

  “Well, I was born here but when my daddy died when I was fifteen, Mama remarried and we moved to Buffalo. After my stepdaddy passed away, my mama and the rest of the family moved back down here. I came back for my brother’s wedding last month and decided to stay when I heard they had an opening for a guidance counselor at Richland High. They hired me on the spot. I was pretty lonesome up there in Buffalo by myself, anyway.” I almost wet my control-top panties when Jerome looked in my eyes and told me, “I’m glad I came back to Richland now. Buffalo didn’t have women as fine as you up there.” I slid my free hand to my side and pinched myself to make sure I was not dreaming.

  “That’s nice,” I muttered.

  Still holding my other hand, Jerome looked around the room. He groaned when he looked over at Jacob, who was glaring at us from a corner with one hand on his hip, the other hand clutching yet another drink. Jerome scratched his finely chiseled chin before returning his attention to me. “Is Jacob your man?”

  I gasped and almost fell off the couch, I was so taken aback. “Good God, no!” I said quickly. “His wife from the Philippines left him and he was depressed. My mama kept at me to go out with him, so I finally did.” I rolled my eyes and groaned.

  “So I don’t have to worry about some jealous boyfriend jumping on me if I visit you?” There was a pleading look in his eyes and that confused me. I had to wonder why such a good-looking man was trying so hard to get in good with me. Men that looked like him usually had women fighting over him. I froze when a wicked thought crossed my mind: maybe he looked at me as a meal ticket now that he knew that my mother and stepfather owned a big restaurant. Jerome had a good job and it sounded like he was from a good family
. I dismissed that wicked thought and scolded myself for being so suspicious.

  “No, you won’t have to worry about that,” I said. I don’t know why Pee Wee’s face entered my mind, but it did and that saddened me. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said firmly. I wasn’t sure how to categorize my relationship with Pee Wee and I didn’t want to give him up. But Pee Wee dated other women so I had every right to date other men.

  Somebody dimmed the lights when the deejay announced that he was going to play some old Motown favorites.

  “Now I can slow dance,” Jerome told me, gently pulling me up. I didn’t want to dance, until I spotted Jacob stumbling across the floor toward me with his hand held out.

  “Me, too,” I said quickly, letting Jerome lead me to the dance floor.

  With Smokey Robinson singing “The Tracks of My Tears” in the background, I fell in love for the first time in my thirty-something years. As soon as the dance ended, Jacob came over to me while I was still on the dance floor in Jerome’s arms.

  “I’m ready to go! These crackers don’t know how to party. Let’s go over to the Red Rose,” Jacob snapped, clutching my wrist. “My brother playin’ in the band over there tonight. And, I heard they servin’ free Cajun popcorn. I’m ’bout to starve up in here tryin’ to eat this dog food Mark ’nem whupped up.”

  Then I did a bold thing. I turned to Jerome. “You sure you don’t mind giving me a ride home?”

  An amused look appeared on his face, but he seemed pleased. “I don’t mind at all,” he told me.

  “Jacob, do you mind if I catch a ride home with Jerome?” I asked sweetly, smiling at Jacob even though he had a scowl on his face that made him look even more ridiculous. He had screwed his face up so tight, it looked like he had one eyebrow.

  “What? Do I mind? Hell, yeah, I mind! I spent three dollars on gas to bring you out here!” Jacob howled, slurring his words. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of the sockets.

  I gasped when Jerome quickly reached into his pocket and fished out a wad of bills. “That should take care of your gas,” he told Jacob, folding a few bills into Jacob’s shirt pocket.

  I didn’t even look back as Jerome led me out the door, but I could hear Jacob snorting like a bull.

  I didn’t get to enjoy any passion with Jerome that night. In fact, he didn’t even want to come in when we got to my house.

  “I have to get up early to take my mama to church in the morning,” he explained. “But, I will be seeing you again, and again, if you want me to.” There was a pleading look on his face. It made him look a lot younger than the thirty-six years he claimed to be. “I like you already, Annette.”

  “I like you, too,” I said, smiling demurely.

  Jerome didn’t even have to write down my telephone number. He memorized it on the spot. Then he surprised me with the longest, most passionate kiss any man had ever laid on me. I was so taken aback, I didn’t even close my eyes. I was sorry I didn’t. I was facing Pee Wee’s house. It was too dark for me to see him in his bedroom window upstairs, but I knew he was up there watching. Pee Wee didn’t smoke cigarettes, but he loved him some weed. He was smoking a joint in his darkened room and I could tell because when he sucked on it, I saw a tiny, bright-red flash.

  CHAPTER 28

  E

  ven though Jerome had made a good first impression on me, the next time I saw him, a week after we’d met, he behaved more like an oaf. But that didn’t bother me. I was not about to let his behavior change my opinion. I figured he was my last chance at a lasting relationship. So, like he was a football, I took him and ran.

  My first date with Jerome was a date from hell. He arrived at my house smelling like beer, his hair askew, with a pair of brown slacks and a white shirt in a paper bag that I had to iron for him to wear. On our way to the movies, his Mercury ran out of gas. There was a gas station two blocks away but we walked six blocks, in the snow, to another one because it was cheaper. During the walk back to his car, he slid on some ice and spilled gas on the leg of my slacks, so I smelled like gasoline the rest of the night.

  Once we got to the theater, five minutes into the movie, he complained about the French movie I had suggested.

  “Why any moviemaker would choose to make a movie with subtitles is beyond me. Any movie worth being dubbed in English should have been made in English in the first place.”

  “Well, you didn’t want to see that teenage slasher movie at the Strand,” I reminded, reaching for the one small box of popcorn he had purchased. He complained that the popcorn was too dry for him, yet he held onto the box like it was full of gold nuggets.

  To keep from paying for parking, Jerome had parked in an alley six blocks from the theater. He had only saved a dollar, because that’s all the parking lot charged after five. During the walk from the theater to his car, he slipped on some ice and sprained his ankle.

  Jerome was a vegetarian so suggesting a rib joint or a chicken shack for dinner after the movie was out of the question. He didn’t want to eat at the Buttercup because his ex-girlfriend had broken up with him there.

  “What about dinner at Antonosanti’s?” I suggested. “They serve some dynamite steamed veggies and pasta.” Antonosanti’s was the most expensive restaurant in town. It was owned by the Antonosantis, a shady Italian family that owned a lot of other property in Richland.

  Jerome gasped and gave me a horrified look as we walked down the street with him limping and holding on to me. “Woman, have you lost your mind? That dago restaurant is the most expensive place in town. I’d go to the A&P and spend a dollar on some macaroni and a can of green beans myself before I’d go to Antonosanti’s—and I bet that’s all they do. Besides, from what I’ve seen and heard, those people aren’t even clean. Our principal, old man Martinelli, he uses the toilet and leaves without washing his hands.”

  We ended up in a soup kitchen where Jerome purchased our dinner with a “buy one, get one free” coupon. The French bread was free, so he filled a doggie bag to take home. When he paid with his credit card, it got declined and I ended up paying the check.

  Then his car wouldn’t start when we left. Too cheap to spring for a cab, he escorted me home on the bus where an unruly drunk man threw up on the seat across from us.

  From that point on, our dates were usually at his apartment, above a converted funeral parlor, sitting in front of his nineteen-inch, black-and-white television drinking generic beer. I didn’t know what kind of money Jerome made, but I assumed he made a decent living. But he was so tightfisted with his money that he bought his clothes from consignment shops and dollar stores. Since I could pay my own way, I didn’t really have a problem with Jerome’s miserly habits. I was generous enough for both of us.

  Jerome was a comfort to me. He was a good listener. He held me in his arms like a baby when I told him about the hard times Muh’Dear and I had endured since moving to Ohio. He almost cried along with me when I told him about the times I had nothing to eat but lime Jell-O. “One week I ate so much of that shit, my pee came out green,” I told him, glad to see him laugh at that. One thing that really touched my heart was his understanding my need to reunite with my father. “I would never turn my back on my children,” he vowed, adding with a passionate embrace, “or you.” I had been looking for a man like Jerome all my life and I was going to do whatever I had to do to keep him.

  Now when Pee Wee came over, he loved making jokes about how cheap Jerome was.

  “I never took you to no ‘all you can eat for five dollars place’ and I wouldn’t never haul a woman like you around on a bus at night,” Pee Wee said evenly. “You could do a whole lot better than Jerome Cunningham.”

  “I’m glad you think that,” I shot back.

  “Huh? What you mean by that?”

  “Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know what I need,” I teased.

  Now that I was seriously involved with another man, Pee Wee and I had stopped sleeping together. But he was still the closest friend I
had and I enjoyed his company. He was one of the most stable things in my life.

  “If things don’t work out with you and your dime-store-shoppin’ Romeo, let me know,” Pee Wee told me. I knew then that no matter what happened to me next, I could always fall back on Pee Wee for anything I needed. Especially sex.

  Sex with Jerome was another fiasco. Not counting Mr. Boatwright, I had had enough experience by now to know the difference between good sex and bad sex. Jerome was in a league of his own. He had problems maintaining an erection and even when he did, he often had an orgasm before I even got in the bed!

  “I just get so excited when I’m with you, I can’t help myself,” he explained, laughing and shaking his limp dick at me. Juice dripping from it formed a tiny puddle on my new sheet. He played with my titties for ten minutes, thinking that would satisfy me. It didn’t, but I pretended it did. I reminded myself that sex wasn’t everything. Some women got along fine without it. There was a woman at my church who was jubilant because her husband had become impotent after an automobile accident.

  I overlooked my frustration and concentrated on Jerome’s exotic looks. With all of his shortcomings, I was still proud to be seen with such a handsome man. My new mission was to keep Jerome Cunningham happy and that’s exactly what I planned to do.

  CHAPTER 29

  “A

  t least you’ll have some pretty babies if y’all ever get married,” Muh’Dear chirped after she met Jerome. She had grinned and beamed like a lighthouse all through the dinner she had prepared for Jerome and me. They had really hit it off. Jerome had complimented Muh’Dear’s cooking excessively and that paid off for him. She had sent him home with a Crock-Pot full of collard greens, a fresh pan of cornbread, and bowls of other delicious items in a shopping bag. He wouldn’t have to buy food for a week. “I’ll be proud to have a man like Jerome as my son-in-law.”