God Ain't Blind by Mary Monroe

Author:Mary Monroe
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2009-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Charlotte fell asleep on the sofa, with her head in my lap, right after the third episode of Cosby. Muh’Dear, who was on the sofa with me, had started yawning right after she finished her second plate of collard greens. Daddy had fallen asleep on the floor, with his head propped up on four pillows, a few minutes before I announced that those damn hush puppies were done.

I didn’t know if Pee Wee was really asleep in his La-Z-Boy or just playing possum, because every time I tried to get up and go use the telephone to try and reach Louis, he stirred and moaned.

As soon as I turned off the VCR and the television, everybody came back to life.

“What time is it?” Daddy asked, with a gaping yawn. He sat bolt upright, looking like a deer caught in somebody’s headlights. He rolled up the sleeve of his plaid flannel shirt and wobbled up from the floor. “We better get home so we can get up in time to get to that airport in the mornin’, y’all.” He grabbed Muh’Dear by the arm and pulled her up from the sofa.

Charlotte sprang up like a jack-in-the-box on her own, rubbing her eyes and mumbling under her breath. “We still going for hot dogs?” she asked with a pleading look.

“You should have et when we did,” Muh’Dear scolded.

“I didn’t want no greens and neck bones!” Charlotte wailed. “I wanted some normal American food for a change.”

“If you don’t stop sassin’ grown folks, you ain’t goin’ to the Bahamas or nowhere else,” Pee Wee threatened. “Now do you want them greens or not, girl? You missed out on them neck bones and hush puppies. I gobbled up the last of them bad boys myself.”

“No! Collard greens is for old folks and rednecks!” Charlotte declared.

“Charlotte, don’t you never let me hear you use that word in this house again!” Pee Wee yelled, shaking his finger at Charlotte.

“Which word, Daddy? Greens or rednecks?” she asked, looking confused and innocent at the same time.

“Redneck is a bad word. That’s the white folk’s version of nigger,” Muh’Dear explained.

The explanation didn’t help, or make Charlotte feel any better. She still looked confused. And now a major pout was on her face, too.

“Well, y’all, we best get to steppin’,” Daddy said, stretching and yawning again. “We don’t want to wear out our welcome.”

After several group hugs, they finally left.

I had already turned to head upstairs when Pee Wee stopped me in my tracks.

“Uh, I’m takin’ the day off tomorrow. I’m goin’ to ride over to the Blue Creek. They tell me them carps is bitin’ like mosquitoes,” he informed me. “Maybe you can call up that friend you had to stand up tonight, and y’all can go eat tomorrow evenin’,” he said.

I nodded. “Maybe I will,” I replied. “Maybe I will.”

He slept in the bed with me that night. Had he not been snoring like a chain saw, breathing on my neck, and blasting farts in his sleep like a skunk, I would have sworn that he was dead.

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