Dollbaby: A Novel

“Listen, honey.” Fannie’s eyes grew dim. “I’ve come to realize that you must be willing to live the life that is waiting for you. That life may not be the one you planned. You have to learn to let go.”

 

 

Ibby wasn’t sure if Fannie was talking about her own life or was trying to prepare Ibby for what lay ahead.

 

“Fannie?”

 

“Yes, dear?”

 

“Does that mean you think Mama’s come back for me?”

 

Fannie took her hand and stroked it. “I have no idea. But whatever happens, I want you to know I love you, just as I have loved all my children.” She looked away. “All of them.”

 

Workmen began hammering on a scaffolding surrounding a tomb under construction nearby.

 

“Come on, dear. I can’t think with all that racket.” She got up and started toward the car.

 

Ibby followed her, admiring the magnificent tomb that was being built with Palladian columns and a stained-glass window. It was so large, it looked as if a dozen people could be buried inside. Ibby was just able to make out the name on the tomb. She stopped in her tracks.

 

“Fannie, that tomb over there—the one they’re building. The name on it. It says Bell.”

 

Fannie waved her hand. “Don’t worry, Ibby darling. I’m not going anywhere. Just planning ahead, for a time when we can all be together.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘all be together’?” Ibby asked.

 

“One day we might all be buried there together, in that tomb,” Fannie said, then added, “It’s better than being buried out in the woods like some wild animal, don’t you think?”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

 

 

 

Where’s Miss Fannie off to this morning?” Doll watched Fannie back the car out of the driveway.

 

“I don’t know,” Queenie answered from the kitchen table where she was reading the Louisiana Weekly, the local Negro newspaper. “Ever since she got that new car, she’s been joyriding all over town. Never do say where she going or where she been. But she’s up to something. She had Mr. Henry bring her a poster board and some felt-tip markers this morning. Been in her room ever since, coloring like a child, then came in the kitchen and snatched the broom from the closet. If I didn’t already think she was tetched in the head, I’d say she was tetched in the head.”

 

Doll came over to the table and took a seat next to her mother.

 

“Lookey here.” Queenie pointed to the headline. “It says three slain in fifty-hour period.”

 

“No sense worrying about things you can’t change.” Doll tried to snatch the paper from her.

 

Queenie slapped her hand away. “Still worry. Worry about T-Bone. Worry about Birdelia. Worry about . . .”

 

“You thinking about Purnell, ain’t you?” Doll said.

 

Queenie blinked a few times, as if the question had drained all the life out of her.

 

Doll wagged a finger at her mother. “When’s the last time you seen Purnell? A year ago, maybe? And why did he come by?”

 

Queenie drew her lips in tight and began to rock back and forth in her chair. Doll hated when her mother got this way, all sentimental and sad over a lost cause like her older brother, Purnell.

 

“You know why he ain’t been around, Mama. He only comes by when he needs money. Otherwise, he’s out there running the streets. That’s why Daddy kicked him out of the house in the first place, remember?”

 

Doll was trying to get her mother to react, but Queenie just kept staring out into space.

 

“You know I’m right, Mama.”

 

“He’s still my boy,” Queenie said in a low voice. “I’m his mama. Can’t help it. Still worry about him.”

 

“That newspaper, it’s got you all stirred up.” Doll grabbed the paper and threw it into the trash can. “Why don’t you drink some bush tea, make you feel better.”

 

“I don’t want no bush tea.”

 

“Well, let me tell you something, Mama. Fretting about Purnell ain’t gone change nothing.”

 

Queenie quit rocking and set unblinking eyes on Doll.

 

Doll knew that look. “What?”

 

“There is something I ain’t told you,” Queenie said softly. She crossed her arms over her belly and began rocking again. “Last week I ran into Rosie Washington over at the Piggly Wiggly. She pulled me aside and told me about what happened over at the public pool on the West Bank.”

 

“What happened? I ain’t heard nothing about it.”

 

Queenie stopped rocking. “If you shut your mouth, I’ll tell you.”

 

Doll rolled her eyes. “Go on.”

 

“Her grandson was swimming over at the pool. There was a nice young white fella lifeguarding over there, teaching all the young ones how to swim. Rosie say her grandson really liked this fella ’cause he treat all them real nice, liked to play with the kids in the pool.”

 

Laura L McNeal's books