heard it. Now I can tell he has.
“They say yr mamma went into the ground with gold in her pockets,” Snipes says.
“You believe that?” I says.
“I’m just telling you what they say.”
“And I say Willa Mae Beede was a liar and a cheat. Getting locked up in jail every time she turned around. Always talking big and never amounting to nothing.”
He takes his foot all the way off the gas to look me full in the face. We coast along. “She was your mamma, girl,” Snipes says.
“Willa Mae passed and it didn’t bother me none. I was glad to see her go,” I says.
“How come you call her Willa Mae?”
“Willa Mae is her name,” I says.
He turns his eyes back to the road and we pick up speed. We go fast. The hot air swishes through the car with all the windows down. I put my hands on the sides of my head, keeping my hair in some kind of shape.
“Willa Mae’s pockets of gold ain’t nothing to sneeze at,” Snipes says. He sorta yells it over the loud whoosh of the air.
“Shoot, Snipes,” I says. “Willa Mae Beede was the biggest liar in Texas. She didn’t go into the ground with shit.” I feel mad then I laugh. After a minute Snipes laughs too.
“Any jewels she had was fake,” I tell him.
“It makes a good story,” he says.
“A good story’s all it makes.”
He checks his wristwatch. We come up on the road that leads to the Crater and he pulls over.
“I gotta let you out here.”
“Can’t you take me all the way home?”
“I gotta get to Midland.”
Sanderson’s is only a mile away. I can walk.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I says.
“Nothing on my mind but coffins,” he says smiling, looking down the road, hands easy now, two fingers of each balanced on the wheel. “Doctor Wells is dying. I’ma talk him into getting buried in a black doctor’s bag made outa oak.”
“That sounds nice,” I says.
His arm grazes my belly as he reaches over to open my door for me. I get out then lean through the window so he can give me some sugar. My dress gaps open. He looks quick at his sixty-three dollars.
“We getting married on Friday, Billy Beede!” Snipes hollers, taking off, driving north, waving at me as he goes.
I walk home the other way.
I don’t know how the hell I get into these messes.
This mess I’m in now started with me needing three dollars’ worth of gas and a Coke. Just goes to show.
“That’s a nice car you got,” she said. “What’s it called?”
“It’s a Galaxie.”
“Like the stars and stuff?”
“It’s just a Ford, girl,” I said. I was on my way home. It was getting late. The man who’d sold me the gas had gone inside through the filling station and into what looked like a trailer out back. The girl was lingering.
“You like cars dontcha?” I said.
“Not really,” she said.
“You wanna go for a ride?” I ast her.
“It’s late,” she said.
“Maybe some other time then,” I said. And I went on.
But I came back the next day. Don’t ask me why cause I don’t know. Billy Beede got a good head of hair and a nice smile tho there’s plenty of gals with that. I heard folks say her mamma died rich, but I didn’t have no designs or nothing on her money. I was just headed back to see her.
“You wanna go for a ride?”
“I’m supposed to be watching the place. My aunt and uncle’s getting groceries in town.”.
“We’ll only go down the road,” I said. And we went.
I thought it would be hard to get her. But it was easy. Right on the side of the road the first time and on the side of the road, every other week or so after that, whether I had business in Lincoln or not. From March until today. The first time I went slow. I told her I loved her and that she didn’t need to worry about nothing cause couldn’t nothing happen the first time.
She only told me a few things about herself—that she had a talent for hair and used to do hair in town. I kept my cards close to my chest too. I only talked coffins. I coulda tolt her how I got a mother and father living in Dallas. I coulda tolt her that. I coulda tolt her other things. But I wasn’t wanting to let too much of my life loose cause letting yr life loose can turn a good time bad. Just goes to show, cause now the little bits of my life I done let loose at her has gone and made a mess.
Maybe Doctor Wells will go for my doctor-bag coffin. He wants to go out in style and I’ll give him a good price.
I’ma have to cross Lincoln off my list. It don’t bother me. Jackson’s Funeral ain’t never gonna buy nothing from me no way. Still.
Shit.
I don’t know how I get into these messes.
I wished I coulda caught them doing it. If I coulda caught them doing it, then my anger woulda come up and I woulda tolt Snipes that Billy Beede belongs to me and I woulda been so mad I mighta maybe kilt him. I seen them in the car. I got all the way up to the windows without them seeing me. But they was through doing it already and when I seen them sitting there I didn’t feel mad I just felt sick.
Now I can hear Billy walking in her shoes. Clop clop. Like a horse. Walking down the road. I’m laying flat on my back. Flat on the ground and right alongside the road. I got my hands acrosst my chest, I’m all laid out to rest. When she walks by she’s gonna pay her respects. She’ll have to.
“I’m getting married on Friday,” she yells out to everybody, to no one. “Billy Beede’s marrying Clifton Snipes!” It would be nice if she yelled out how she was gonna be marrying Laz Jackson.
Now I don’t hear nothing. No more clopping.
I could get up but don’t. Billy’s on her way towards me and I’m gonna lay here till she passes by. Her man left her on the side of the road and now she’s walking
