Chapter 30

MAMA USED TO TELL ME that a body could be controlled by bad spirits taking over—that’s what the Gullahs believed anyway. So Mama’d keep little bits of wadded-up newspaper in our shoes thinking the spirits would have to read each and every word ’fore messing with us. Shucks. When Henrietta found that ol’ book of Leona’s, I’d ‘a given my right arm to have some newspaper wadded up in her shoes. Now Henrietta’s got that book in her hands, it’s like the devil himself done crawled up in her to roost. Since she ain’t good friends with Jesus, I reckon that’s pretty much what happened to her.

Henrietta’s drinking some coffee and reading the Sunday newspaper one morning when all a sudden she gets to cursing real bad. “Diggity-dang gay man!” Well, that ain’t really what she says, but her words are just too awful to repeat. Yes sir, Retta’s just a-spittin’ her coffee ’cross the table. In all my years on Earth I never heard her talk that way.

“What in the world?” says Eddie, standing up real quick and grabbing for his napkin. “What is wrong with you?”

“You see this?” She stabs the paper with her finger. Eddie looks down at the front page and sees a real nice picture of EJ and Mister Jeffrey Lowes shaking hands. The headline reads, “Local Florist to Head Society Fundraising Efforts.”

“What is he thinking?” she yells, standing up and pacing the kitchen in her robe. “Your son just put a [gay man] in charge of raising money for The Grass Roots Society, Edmund! Who the [boopity-boop] is going to give money for African-Americans to a white [gay man]?!”

“Henrietta! That’s enough! Here, let me see it.” Retta’s words are so bad, Eddie grabs the newspaper out of her hands. “It says here Jeffrey’s been doing a great job of finding new members, Henrietta. Big ones too. Look here, the Rothschilds, the Fairbanks, wow!” Eddie closes his lips and his eyes moves back and forth over the words. He flips to the next page and keeps on reading.

Henrietta walks over to the counter and picks up tiny little crumbs with her fingernails. Then she crushes ’em up good and flicks the dust off into the air. I can hear what she’s thinking, and let’s just say you’re glad you can’t hear it. The evil thoughts to come into that girl’s head are so ugly, I’m ashamed to be her mama. She’s torn up bad over her boy, EJ, taking kindly to somebody else. “Didn’t I do a real good job for him?” and “What in the world would make EJ pick Jeffrey over me?” And there it is. I see it now. Henrietta feels just like she did as a little girl with me doting on Jeffrey. Oh, how I wish I had known ’bout that back then. I sure ’nough would ‘a done something ’bout it.

Henrietta’s been studying that little black book of Leona’s every night—memorizing every last word. Can’t wait to try something out. She read all about Leona bringing Mama and Daddy together and a lot of other good things she done with her magic. But that ain’t what interests Henrietta. No, Retta wants to know everything she can ’bout the bad stuff. I was thinking she’d turned over a new leaf after I died, but sure ’nough, the Henrietta I always knew just can’t help but showing herself. And with the devil all roosted up in her, I reckon there ain’t much she can do ’bout that, anyway.

Toward the middle of the book, if I remember it right, Leona wrote of the time she made poor ol’ Martha Sewell’s teeth fall out. Martha was Mama’s cousin twice removed and was married to a man named Wilbur Sewell. Now Mister Wilbur was a fine-looking man. Had a farm up the way in Seven Mile and worked in it every day so his skin was dark like burnt toast, and his body was bulky in all the right places.

Now Auntie, she didn’t go with men much, mostly ’cause they was scared of her. But not ol’ Wilbur Sewell. He was always just as nice as he could be to her. Didn’t mean nothing by it, though, seeing as he was married and all. But his wife, Martha, ain’t known that, and she thought she seen Leona making eyes at him in the feed n’ seed when he was picking up some hog slop. Well, Miss Martha started bad-mouthing Auntie and calling her real bad names for a woman back then, so when Auntie Leona caught wind of it, she gone and whooped up some hoodoo on her.

See, folks was getting together for a fish fry at our house. Yes sir, I remember it like yesterday. Mama had a big spread on the table with red rice and corn on the cob, and the first time Cousin Martha bit down on it, every last tooth in her head falled out—every last one. Poor ol’ Martha ain’t never said another word ’bout Auntie Leona after that. Auntie was mighty proud of what she done too—ain’t even felt the smallest twinge of guilt neither.

Looks like Retta’s got some Leona in her, I tell you what.

Monday morning, Henrietta come storming in EJ’s house just mad as a hornet ’cause she’d had some time to sit and stew. She found EJ in his bedroom not even finished with tucking his shirt in.

“Edmund James White, have you got marbles in your head?”

The baby and Felicia hear the fire in her voice, so they stay hiding in the nursery with the door shut.

“Mama,” EJ says, spinning ’round to see her in the doorway. “What’s wrong? Something wrong?”

“I’ll say there’s something wrong,” she says, coming inches from his face. “Are you crazy? You made Jeffrey Lowes the head of fundraising? Why didn’t you speak to me about this first? Do you know what this is going to do to the Society?”

“Mama, calm down,” EJ says, passing her and walking up the hall to the kitchen. “Jeffrey’s a great resource for us. He’s brought us so many sponsors already, I’m just amazed. And he knows lots of people in town—he’s a florist, for Pete’s sake—does all the big-wigs’ events.”

Henrietta stays right on his heels and sits down at the table, breathing in real deep.

“He’s perfect for the job, Mama, and you ought to be thankful he’s helping us so much. Now what has gotten into you?”

Henrietta’s still. She watches him pour himself a nice cup of black coffee and then sit down. “EJ, he’s gay,” she says, real slow and in a real low voice.

“So?”

“So? Are you kidding?” Henrietta pushes up her sleeves. “Do you want to destroy everything we’ve worked for in one fell swoop?”

“Oh, come on, now. Don’t you think you’re being just a little overdramatic?”

Henrietta bites her lip hard and holds her fists under the table. “I am not overreacting, EJ. I’m being practical, and thank God, because it looks like I’m the only one here using her head.”

“Okay, Mama. So he’s gay. What do you think that means exactly? You think he’s going to hit on all the sponsors? Is that it? He’s going to have orgies and seduce the mayor and the governor and anybody else who comes in his path?”

“No, EJ,” she says, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. “It’s not that. He’s . . . he’s . . .”

“What is he, Mother? White?” EJ’s getting mad now. “Is that what this is about? Oh, I don’t even believe it! I thought you were all past that mess . . .”

“No, no, no, it’s not that he’s white,” Henrietta’s backpedaling real quick. “It’s just that, well, I don’t know that he’s the right person to represent the Society is all. I mean, wouldn’t it make more sense to have a black person who actually knows something about African-Americans to be the one soliciting money for them?”

“Mother, so far, neither you or me—African-Americans mind you—have done as good a job attracting sponsors as Jeffrey.”

“Hmmph. Well, I can see this conversation is going nowhere. You sure do have a hard head, EJ,” she’s wagging her finger in his face, “and you just better hope Jeffrey Lowes doesn’t mess things up, ’cause when he does—and I say when he does—don’t come running to me to help you fix things.”

Henrietta flies out the front door and slams it hard enough to shake the house. When she gets home, she picks up that book of Leona’s and goes to studying. Lord have mercy, she gonna make darn sure poor Jeffrey Lowes is gonna screw things up.