The Bead Lady
The Bead Lady always came around when I played hopscotch on the sidewalk, outside my school. The Cathedral one with real nuns and everything. Usually, I played there when Mommy was having one of her high dramas. That’s what she called them. High Dramas. Always to do with boys and Mommy things.
It was easier to be far away during the High Mommy Dramas. I took a stick of colored chalk and drew on the blue stones outside my school. The Bead Lady always came. She tried to scare me into buying her necklaces.
She wore beads everywhere, the ones for Mardi Gras that ladies got for raising their tops and showing their boobies. Hehehe. She must’ve shown her boobies A LOT, because she was covered in beads. Around her neck. Knotted at her waist. Hanging from her hair. Wrapped around her arms. Sewn into her dress and glued to her shoes.
She talked funny, too, like she wasn’t from New Orleans. Aunt Bertie said to stay away from her because she was from that Hitler place, but since I don’t know what that means, I talked to her anyway. She always said the same thing to me: “Buy beads. Or you die.”
Until the day I did my hopscotch turn and told her we were all going to die anyway. Buying beads wouldn’t change anything.
She raised one eyebrow and got this funny look, right before she handed me a string of beads. Rainbow ones, with boy parts on them. She put them over my head and said “You live forever.” Her heavy voice hung in the air after she was gone.
Welcome to Mommy Dearest, a series of fiction. If this is your first visit to the series, please click here to read the first installment, go here for the second installment and click here for the third and go here for the fourth. Thanks for your feedback on fiction posts. Your thoughts will help me make a believable character.