old lanky self over a little. “You want to see something, you come with me! Why didn’t you answer me?”
“’Cause I didn’t hear you. Did you call me?”
She was lying like I don’t know what. She always did.
“Just dry your hands and come with me this instant. You know you hate to miss anything.”
She came behind me muttering about Lincoln freeing her people and Dr. King and all kinds of liberation speeches but her jaw flopped like a crocodile’s when she looked down at the yard next door. There was Exhibit A—young woman in shorts with old goat in long trousers.
“Um-um,” she said, staring right out the window so the entire planet could see her. “I had a dream last night about flowers blooming all over that house.”
“What?”
“I said, Last night I dream that house was covered in flowers! You are so deaf!”
“I am not! And there’s nothing in that yard except stickers and dollar weed! Move back, you old buzzard, they’re gonna see you!”
She stopped and turned to me with that look of hers, that laser of ice only Angel can deliver. It gave me the chills.
“Who you calling old? If I is an old buzzard then you is one too! Tell me, what got you all rattled up? That woman down there ain’t no floozy! She’s a schoolteacher or something!”
“And just how do you know that? ” I leaned over her shoulder to have another look. There wasn’t a single indication for my money that she was a teacher.
“Her shoes. She’s wearing them awful Birkenstocks that my granddaughter wears. All her friends too.” Then she narrowed her eyes at the scene below and added, “She’s a little long in the tooth for ’em, too, ’eah?”
“Humph! Even so! It’s because of women like her that I never remarried.”
It had always been a particular point of sadness for me that another man never came along for my comfort after my Percy died and went to hell. Angel and I had discussed it many times.
“Iffin you say so,” she said and went back toward the kitchen.
Now what was that supposed to mean? I just shook my head and followed her, deciding to ignore her double entendre for the moment.
“Where are you going? ” I said.
“Gone make our new neighbors a pound cake, that’s what.”
“What?”
“I said, I gwine make a cake! Catch more flies with sugar? Where are your manners, Miss Mavis?”
Now. You may tell me all manner of things and I won’t get upset, but don’t anyone tell me I have lost my manners or I’d send them from here to Kalamazoo! However, when it came to Angel, I just let her run her mouth. We’d been sharing a roof for so long, I had already heard every thought of hers a thousand times anyway.
When my Percy was alive, he bought me this house thinking it would only be temporary. We had a nice couple living downstairs and we lived upstairs. Both apartments were very acceptable. Our apartment had three bedrooms and two bathrooms and a lovely view of the Atlantic Ocean. The downstairs had two small bedrooms, a living room combination dining room and a tiny kitchen. It was smaller, to make room for our carport and utility room, and it was a little dark, but still could be very cozy in the right hands.
When our little Thurmond was born, Angel came in to help me. She helped me raise Merilee too. Then when Percy drank himself to death and when the couple downstairs got divorced and moved out, Angel moved in. I imagine she has been here almost a hundred years. Now my Thurmond’s changed his name to Fritz and he’s off in California with his third wife, Karyn with a y , thank you. Merilee is still married to that banker in Atlanta. I never saw either one of them unless I was at death’s door. It’s just Life With Angel , and an orchestrated visit to death’s door every five years.
All right, I’d admit it. I liked a little drama now and then. Kept my blood sugar down and my spirits up. Still. My new neighbor? I knew her type, all right. Home-wrecking man chasers! Humph!
It
“’Cause I didn’t hear you. Did you call me?”
She was lying like I don’t know what. She always did.
“Just dry your hands and come with me this instant. You know you hate to miss anything.”
She came behind me muttering about Lincoln freeing her people and Dr. King and all kinds of liberation speeches but her jaw flopped like a crocodile’s when she looked down at the yard next door. There was Exhibit A—young woman in shorts with old goat in long trousers.
“Um-um,” she said, staring right out the window so the entire planet could see her. “I had a dream last night about flowers blooming all over that house.”
“What?”
“I said, Last night I dream that house was covered in flowers! You are so deaf!”
“I am not! And there’s nothing in that yard except stickers and dollar weed! Move back, you old buzzard, they’re gonna see you!”
She stopped and turned to me with that look of hers, that laser of ice only Angel can deliver. It gave me the chills.
“Who you calling old? If I is an old buzzard then you is one too! Tell me, what got you all rattled up? That woman down there ain’t no floozy! She’s a schoolteacher or something!”
“And just how do you know that? ” I leaned over her shoulder to have another look. There wasn’t a single indication for my money that she was a teacher.
“Her shoes. She’s wearing them awful Birkenstocks that my granddaughter wears. All her friends too.” Then she narrowed her eyes at the scene below and added, “She’s a little long in the tooth for ’em, too, ’eah?”
“Humph! Even so! It’s because of women like her that I never remarried.”
It had always been a particular point of sadness for me that another man never came along for my comfort after my Percy died and went to hell. Angel and I had discussed it many times.
“Iffin you say so,” she said and went back toward the kitchen.
Now what was that supposed to mean? I just shook my head and followed her, deciding to ignore her double entendre for the moment.
“Where are you going? ” I said.
“Gone make our new neighbors a pound cake, that’s what.”
“What?”
“I said, I gwine make a cake! Catch more flies with sugar? Where are your manners, Miss Mavis?”
Now. You may tell me all manner of things and I won’t get upset, but don’t anyone tell me I have lost my manners or I’d send them from here to Kalamazoo! However, when it came to Angel, I just let her run her mouth. We’d been sharing a roof for so long, I had already heard every thought of hers a thousand times anyway.
When my Percy was alive, he bought me this house thinking it would only be temporary. We had a nice couple living downstairs and we lived upstairs. Both apartments were very acceptable. Our apartment had three bedrooms and two bathrooms and a lovely view of the Atlantic Ocean. The downstairs had two small bedrooms, a living room combination dining room and a tiny kitchen. It was smaller, to make room for our carport and utility room, and it was a little dark, but still could be very cozy in the right hands.
When our little Thurmond was born, Angel came in to help me. She helped me raise Merilee too. Then when Percy drank himself to death and when the couple downstairs got divorced and moved out, Angel moved in. I imagine she has been here almost a hundred years. Now my Thurmond’s changed his name to Fritz and he’s off in California with his third wife, Karyn with a y , thank you. Merilee is still married to that banker in Atlanta. I never saw either one of them unless I was at death’s door. It’s just Life With Angel , and an orchestrated visit to death’s door every five years.
All right, I’d admit it. I liked a little drama now and then. Kept my blood sugar down and my spirits up. Still. My new neighbor? I knew her type, all right. Home-wrecking man chasers! Humph!
It
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