I could see a light on in the Bean trailer but I didn’t see Lenny’s old Bel Air, just that two-toned old Ford his mama drove parked out in front. I walked over there hoping he’d pulled the car round back. Last thing in the world I wanted to do was get stuck with Lenny’s crazy mama, but there she was, sticking her neck out the window and waving both hands at me like she was some crazed spastic being drenched with cold water.
“Grace, Grace, I do declare. Come on in here, girl, and pull up a chair.”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Bean. I was just looking for Lenny.”
“Don’t look for gold, he hasn’t any.” She laughed.
“I see he’s not here. I’ll come back tomorrow. It’s a bit late.”
The next thing I knew she was standing in the doorway, all lit up by the moon, and I felt spooked, like going into that trailer with her would be the last steps on this earth I’d ever take.
“Now, I’ve got milk and cookies, too, just for darlin’ hungry you.”
“No, really, Mrs. Bean. It’s late.”
“Come in here now, Grace Place. We’ve got to be friends. You know that’s the way storytelling begins?”
Holy, Horrible Hixson. I found myself walking in there and sitting myself down at her table. I looked at her sheepishly, ’cause she just kept staring at me and smiling, and I thought for sure she was about ready to carve me up into little pieces and serve me to the alley cats.
“Don’t be afraid, Grace. I won’t bite you.”
I smiled and took a cookie. It was one of those nice Mallomars. I usually love Mallomars but her cookies tasted like they’d been sitting up in her bread box for years.
“Nice cookies, Mrs. Bean.”
“Thank you, honey. I’ve got Fig Newtons, Oreos, and why, I even think I have some Hostess Sno Balls. You like Sno Balls, honey?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bean.”
“White or pink?”
“I don’t care.” I laughed. Somehow it just seemed ridiculous that she was feeding me all these sweets. I watched as she reached in her bread box and came up with two Sno Ball cupcakes, both of them pink, and both of them looking like they’d been sat on.
“Here you are, you sweet little thing, with a smile to make all the birds sing. Go take this cookie to your precious belly, before it gets all stale and smelly.”
I looked at her in disbelief. She sure was strange. I finished another Mallomar and tried to think of something to say.
“Will Lenny be back soon?” I asked. “You know where he is?”
“You want some milk, sweet Grace?”
“You have any Coke?”
She laughed and kind of danced on over to the refrigerator the way I saw Loretta Young come down the stairs on that old TV show my mama loves.
“My boys love Coke. I always have Coke. Otherwise they may slit my throat.”
I almost choked on the Sno Ball cupcake she had given me; it was so damn stale. I didn’t want to appear rude or anything, but when her back was turned I took it out of my mouth and managed to throw it in her garbage pail without her seeing me.
She put the bottle of Coke in front of me and sat down. I was getting nervous ’cause she kept staring at my face.
“So, what kind of bet did Lenny win over Billy?” I asked, just wanting to make conversation.
“Oh, honey, you don’t want to know. They take bets on the strangest things—like will a bird die or not, if you tear its wing.”
I looked at her as she sat there staring at me like I was two-headed, or something else weird. I couldn’t believe what she’d just said. It started giving me the creeps.
“It’ll die of a broken heart,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could. “And it sure ain’t a nice thing to do.”
“You’ve got pretty eyes, Grace,” she told me out of nowhere.
“You think Lenny will be back soon?” I asked her.
“Use ’em.”
“What?”
“Use ’em,” she said, staring into my face like she was looking for something important.
I stood up from my chair. I’d seen the lights of a car pull up and drive around to the back of the Bean trailer. I thought it might be Lenny.
“I don’t understand, Mrs. Bean,” I said and looked out the window, hoping I’d see Lenny walking around to the front, wanting to see his sexy swagger coming through that door, wanting him to save me from his crazy mother.
She walked over to me and took both my arms in her hands. Her touch was very cold and her grip was tight. I felt some strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“You’re in for a ride, you’re in for a spin. My boy is no one’s friend.”
“Mrs. Bean?” I stammered, and then, before I knew it, there was Lenny at the door.
“You get your chicken wings, Grace?” he asked and stood there taking in his mama’s grip on my arm.
“No,” I said and watched as Mrs. Bean winked at me and moved aside.
“You been eating Sno Balls?” He grinned and closed the door behind him.
I looked at him and let out a gasp.
“Pink crumbs all over your mouth, Grace,” he said.
“What the hell happened to you?” I took in the dirt all over his clothes and the blood on his lip, but he was looking at me as if I were the one standing there bleeding.
“Nothing happened to me.”
“You’re bleeding, Lenny, and you’re covered with dirt. Your lip is cut, and there’s one hell of a bruise on your cheek.”
“I stopped for a beer and some creep gave me a hard time. Nothing but a little scuffle honey. You should see him.”
“My boy is always getting into scuffles. He was always that way, Grace. He loves a good fight. He punches back with all his might. Lenny Bean is so big and strong, better never do him wrong.”
Lenny cracked up laughing. “Mama, you’re a Looney Tune,” he said as he walked over and hugged her. I stood there gaping at them both.
“Where you been?” she asked, her voice suddenly sounding normal. “Why do you have to be such a bully?”
Lenny looked over at me and winked. “I’m your bully boy, Mama. I’m just you’re rough, tough bully boy.”
I finally stood up and went to the door. “You owe me some chicken,” I said, sort of like an announcement.
“Why, you got all the damn money.” He laughed.
“Guess I do. You coming?”
“Sure, Grace. I could use some food.” He went to light the cigarette he had hanging out of his mouth, the side that hadn’t been cut up in some stupid fight.
“What’s that you got in your hand, Lenny?” I asked.
“Look at this, baby. I found my Zippo.”
“But you threw it in the road.”
“Yeah, and me and Billy went back and found it.”
“Then that’s the one your father gave you?”
“No, honey, my daddy’s Zippo is still lost in Betty Ann Houseman’s house somewhere.”
“I have to talk to you, Lenny. Let’s go.”
“Sure, baby, let’s go. ’Bye, Mama.”
“Lies, lies, pretty eyes.”
“Good night, Mrs. Bean.”
“’Night, Mama.”
“Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Funny, how bye rhymes with hi.” Mrs. Bean shot up and slammed her hand down on the table, as if she’d just realized she was late going somewhere.
As Lenny pulled the car out and drove past the Bean house, I could see Mrs. Bean sitting at the window. She was staring out at the car and it looked to me like she was in some kind of a trance.
“Your mama all right?” I asked Lenny.
“Ha!” he said. “What the hell do you think?”