Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [49]
“C’mon down here and talk to me, baby,” Uncle Leroy slurred. “And bring me some of them pig feets, I’m hongry.”
He knows! He knows I took his money. I should have just taken coins. No, I shouldn’t have taken anything. He wants to talk to me about all the times his money’s been missing. How come Ray’s never the one to get caught? What am I going to say?
Rhonda always tried to avoid looking at the big glass jar of pickled pig’s feet when she opened the refrigerator. Just the sight of the dismembered feet lying in the bottom of the jar in the murky juice made her sick to her stomach. It reminded her of horror movies and mad scientists doing weird experiments in their dungeon laboratories. Maybe she’d make him a salami sandwich instead. No. She was already in enough trouble; she’d better fix him just what he asked for. It might help her case.
Rhonda removed the huge jar from the back of the top shelf of the refrigerator and placed it on the kitchen table. She got down a plate from the cabinet and put it next to the jar. She got a fork and a knife from the silverware drawer, wrapped them in three paper napkins, and placed them on a wooden tray. Aunt Nadine had made a large bowl of potato salad that morning, and Rhonda put a heaping scoop on the plate. Next, she filled a plastic tumbler with cold water and put it and a bottle of hot sauce on the tray. She saved the worst for last. Holding her breath, she opened the jar and took out two of the smelly pig’s feet and placed them on the plate next to the potato salad. She tried not to breathe until she had replaced the lid and put the jar back behind the milk bottles in the refrigerator.
Rhonda stood with the tray at the top of the steps, squeezed her eyes shut, and said a silent prayer. She asked God to please not let Uncle Leroy be too mad at her, to please forgive her sin, and to please let her keep the bubble bath. Then she carefully descended the stairs to the basement.
Uncle Leroy was sitting up on the sofa, leaning hard to the left. He motioned her to put the tray down on the coffee table in front of him. Rhonda did as he indicated, but avoided looking directly at him so he couldn’t see the guilt in her eyes.
“That’s nice, baby. Real nice,” Uncle Leroy said. He patted the seat cushion next to him. “Sit next to me while I eat. We can talk and maybe have us a little fun, too.”
Even from across the coffee table, Rhonda could smell the stale liquor on his breath. The last thing she wanted to do was get closer to Uncle Leroy and watch him eat pig’s feet. This was not her idea of fun. But what could she do? She had stolen his money and now she had to pay.
“C’mon, baby,” Uncle Leroy said, “I won’t bite you. I just want to talk to you.”
Rhonda walked around the coffee table and sat stiffly on the far end of the sofa. Uncle Leroy picked up a pig’s foot and took a big, juicy bite, letting the juice roll down his chin and onto his shirt. Rhonda was disgusted. The stench of the alcohol plus the strong vinegar smell of the pickled pig’s feet was overwhelming, and Uncle Leroy was making loud, smacking noises as he chewed and talked at the same time.
“Why don’t you have the other one?” he asked. He shook the pig’s foot in her direction, and it slipped from his greasy fingers and fell to the floor between his feet. “Get that for me, baby. My head hurts too bad to bend down that far.”
Rhonda slid down the sofa toward Uncle Leroy and retrieved the offensive foot. When she offered it to him, he grabbed her wrist instead, and pulled her to him. The meat fell onto the sofa between his legs. Rhonda instinctively pushed him away with her free hand, but he grabbed that wrist as well and forced her onto his lap. Rhonda tried to free herself from his grasp, but drunk as he was, Uncle Leroy held on fast.
“You gonna get that for me, baby?” Uncle Leroy’s mouth was at Rhonda’s ear. Her stomach was churning from