Addie Moss had never married. Hadn't wanted to. She had everything she'd ever
wanted or needed in her life. Good family, good friends, and had been an
accomplished nanny to the children of a very wealthy family. She had over 40
nieces and nephews hailing from a huge family in South Carolina and was the
most popular person in the clan. Nicknamed "Moms Mabely" for not only her
incomparable wit, but her appearance too, she could make a joke out of
anything.
Her skin was the color of maple syrup with a round jolly face that framed a
huge mouth and white teeth. She normally tied her short dark hair back with a
red bandana and pulled on brown knee high stockings under long cotton skirts
and knotted them at her knee. This was her most comfortable choice of
outfits.
Some would have deemed Addie's humor as rather dark. It certainly was not
always appropriate. But perhaps that was what made her so funny. Her
naughtiness. Her intestinal fortitude. Her guts. Everyone knew that when she
was in town, there was no need to look any further for entertainment. Addie
was always on. Munching on an aluminum pie plate full of Crunch 'n Munch, she
would weave one tale into another until her audience was spellbound. She
never had to beg for the attention of her listeners. She seduced them into
that place in her mind that created news via fantasy. I can still remember
the story she shared the last time we visited her...
"Just because I'm now in a retirement home don't mean that I don't have a
social life. Social life? I'm a social butterfly! Always have been. Always
will be I guess. My mama said that by the time that I was two, I was dancing
the Charleston on her living room coffee table as soon as company came
through the door. I got many a spankin' for my little pranks and put ons. But
that's the way I've always been. Anyway, back to my social life. You see, I
figure since God's blessed me to be 89 years old and I still feel like
getting around, I may as well make a few friends. Besides, this place ain't
so bad. My apartment is kept clean by a housekeeper. Now, I like that. I
figure I've been cleaning up behind people all of my life, now it's time for
someone to do the same for me. The food ain't bad either. 'Course it don't
taste like mine...
I met a nice man here. Not bad looking and likes to bring me extra dishes of
Jell-O at supper. My favorite is green. But I hate when they try to include
that fruit in there. Pineapple in particular gets stuck in my dentures.
Anyway, his name is Eugene and we've taken to going to bingo together every
Thursday night. I enjoy it. Eugene does too, but takes the game real serious
like. Too serious if you askin me. Last time we was there, the lady in charge
of calling the numbers didn't call any of Eugene's number for the first three
rounds. He screamed at her so much that he was hoarse for the next two days.
Eugene invited me to watch a movie on his VCR in his apartment last Saturday
evening. I eventually went, but I wasn't too keen on the idea at first. Call
me old fashioned, but it ain't fittin for a lady to be entertainin' in no
man's room in the evening and they ain't married. Nevertheless, I went but
insisted that we keep the door ajar. For appearance's sake, of course.
Eugene's place was nice and smelled like men's cologne and Ben Gay. He knows
that I prefer Icy Hot. It just seems to take away the aches a little faster,
if you ask me. Anyway, he was on his recliner with a blanket draped over the
bottom half of his body. I took a seat in the chair next to him and the movie
started.
Mid ways through the movie, I got up to go to the restroom. One thing about
the bathrooms at this retirement home is that the toilets seem built for them
skinny women. Well, I'm a full sized black woman and every time I go, I feel
like a pure burden to that little glass throne. While I was searching for a
towel to wipe my hands on, I decided to have a quick look around. Call me
nosy if you want, but you can tell right much about a person by what's in
their bathroom. Nothing was really out of the ordinary until I looked into
the linen closet and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw a long brown
object that looked like a...nah, couldn't be. A leg? What was a leg doing in
Eugene's closet? I took just my index finger and tapped it. I don't know what
I expected it to sound like, but it felt like hard plastic. My eyes scanned
from the thigh of the leg, down to the foot. The leg was wearing Eugene's
shoe! Well of course it was, it was his leg. Funny how I 'd never noticed it
before.
"I suddenly got this overwhelming urge to laugh and immediately burst into a
fit of giggles. I kept thinking that Eugene was the only person I knew who
could actually occupy two places at the same time." To comment on this or any other story by Paula V. Bowie email
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