Chapter 63

In a few minutes, he was fast asleep.54: I Can See Why No One Likes You

“Wiley, this is Aunt Rita,” Jackson said in a tight voice.

They had come down on the elevator together.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, feeling sheepish since I couldn’t get up to shake her hand properly. Tony slept on, oblivious. I had sat there so long my back was starting to cramp, but the poor little guy was exhausted.

Aunt Rita was short, spare of frame, severe-looking in the face—all bones and skin pulled tight. Her neck and fingers were adorned with so much gold and silver, she looked like a walking jewelry store.

“I’ve heard about you,” Rita Cummings announced in what seemed a long-suffering voice. “You’re the homosexual who wrote that book.”

“Among other things,” I agreed.

“And you’re from the South. You inflicted Bill Clinton on us, and for that, I will never forgive any of you. Not to speak of Jimmy Carter. But then you gave us Paula Deen and Elvis too. I really don’t know what to say.”