Aunt Sookie & Me: the sordid tale of a scandalous southern belle by Michael Scott Garvin

Author:Michael Scott Garvin [Garvin, Michael Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-04T04:00:00+00:00

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.

Rows of parked polished automobiles lined the curb in front of the Banks’s grand estate. Children dressed in their finest ran up the steps and into the massive walnut front doors. Bundles of balloons were tied to the necks of two granite lions that reclined on pedestals flanking both sides of the entry.

We stood small at the steps of Tallulah’s house.

Pearl gasped, “Holy moly.”

“Yessum,” I replied. “Tallulah’s folks must be loaded.”

As we entered the house, the birthday festivities were in full swing. Smartly dressed children ran in and out of the elegant rooms and up and down the carved mahogany staircase.

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