Getting Mother's Body Read Online Free PDF Page A

nothing but a bulldagger.
    BILLY BEEDE
    Mrs. Jackson stands beside me. She got a tape measure hanging around her neck and one of them red pincushions, stuck full of steel pins and shaped like a tomato, tied to her wrist. We both looking at the dress in the window, the one with the train. It cost a hundred and thirty dollars.
    â€œHow much it cost without the train?” I ask her.
    â€œThe train’s on there for good,” she says.
    â€œWhat if it weren’t?” I says. “How much would it cost if the train weren’t on there for good?”
    Mrs. Jackson looks at the dress then at me, sizing me with her eyes. Except for my baby-belly I’m on the narrow side. Her eyes hang on my belly and when I catch her staring, she looks through her front show window and up into the sky. It’s after five o’clock. When I came up she was standing at the door waiting for me. While I was washing up, Laz had told her I was on my way. I wiped the toes of my shoes fast across the backs of my legs, left then right, to get the dirt off. She let me in then turned the “Open” sign to “Closed.”
    â€œI don’t think it’ll fit you,” she says softly.
    â€œIt’ll fit,” I says. “But all I got is sixty-three dollars.”
    â€œMr. Jackson don’t like me spending all my time making these dresses then losing money by selling them cheap,” she says.
    â€œSixty-three dollars ain’t cheap,” I says. I want to tell her how I’d have more money if her husband woulda bought one of Snipes’ coffins and how, since her husband keeps turning my future husband away, she owes me a deal. I want to say all this but something in me tells me to stay sweet.
    â€œIt’s all hand-sewn,” she says. “That’s not a machine-sewn dress and it’s not some dress from the Sears catalogue. That there’s a once-in-a-lifetime dress.”
    I see something in her, something I’m not sure of at first. Something my mother might call The Hole. It’s like a soft spot and everybody’s got one. Mother said she could see The Hole in people and then she’d know how to take them. She could see Holes all the time but I ain’t never seen one. Until now. Words shape theirselves in my mouth and I start talking without thinking of what I need to say. It’s like The Hole shapes the words for me and I don’t got to think or nothing.
    â€œWhen you got married, what’d yr dress look like?” I ask Mrs. Jackson.
    The hard line of her mouth lets go a little.
    â€œIt musta been pretty,” I says.
    â€œThat dress is an exact copy of my wedding dress,” she says smiling. “I was fifteen. One year younger than you are now.” She looks at the dress then back at me then at the dress again.
    â€œYou make your dress yrself too?” I ask.
    â€œMy mother made mine for me,” Mrs. Jackson says. And then she goes quiet.
    The Hole shapes more words in my mouth, all I gotta do is let them out. “Willa Mae, you know, my uh—”
    â€œYour mother,” Mrs. Jackson says, saying “mother” out loud for me.
    â€œYes, ma’am, well, she’s passed, but she sure woulda loved to see my wedding day, seeing how she was always jilted and never lucky enough to get married herself.”
    We stand there quiet, both looking at the dress.
    â€œLet’s see what it looks like on you,” Mrs. Jackson says. She hurries to get a stool then stands on it, pulling down the window shade. I take off my clothes while she strips the dummy. By the time she gets the dress off I’m ready. With the shade down it’s dark inside her store. She can see my baby-belly but not too good. She holds the dress for me and I put my hand on her shoulder and step into it. A row of seed buttons up the back. High collar and long sleeves, blind-you white satin with lots of lace. Plus the long train with a hand loop to