Always (15 page)

My aunt, who was almost one hundred at this time, was not able to attend the wedding. She could be so funny at times. Once I asked her about getting a dog and she said no. I asked her a few weeks later about getting a cat and she said hell no. Then I asked her if I could get a parakeet and she asked if I was out of my mind. I asked her what she had against pets. She said she loved pets, but the pets she loved were pigs, goats, possums, coons, and rabbits. She said a pet wasn't a pet unless you could eat it when you got sick of it.

So we had the wedding in the back of the farm, not far from her bedroom so she could be with us. She wore cream and had on these white lace gloves which I kept after the ceremony. She even asked me to “paint her face.” So I put on her the same shade of auburn lipstick I was wearing, a dab of rouge, placed a few snips of baby's breath in her hair, and she looked pretty as a picture.

She died three months after my wedding.

After Auntie Eunice died, I found out that she left me the farm and over seventy thousand dollars in her will. Her four children, who lived in the area, divided up about eight thousand dollars. The reason she did that, her neighbor told me, is because I came up from Florida to help her, and they were living in the area and rarely even visited. It was funny—at her funeral, the ones who had seen her the
least
were the ones who hollered and screamed the
most
. I didn't cry one tear, because I had already given her my baby's breath while she could enjoy it.

She had one son she did not have to leave anything to. His name was Jesse, but we always called him Jesse James.
If Jesse visited the house, we almost had to do a cavity search before he could leave. When I say he would steal anything I mean just that. There was a guy in town who had no teeth. All of the kids called him sock puppet and he bought Auntie Eunice's dentures from Jesse.

At sixty years old, Jesse was the family drug addict. Once he and Darius came close to fighting because Darius caught him stealing eggs out of the farmhouse. Jesse finally left and went to New Orleans, and we never heard from him since. We tried to track him down but came up empty, so everyone assumed he'd ended up a John Doe.

Jesse had a son by the name of Jesse Jr. who was the spitting image of his father and about a year younger than Sarah. Since Jesse's girlfriend, for lack of a better word, was no more than twenty and was not able to support their child, I took him in and raised him along with three other foster children. I just felt so uncomfortable with all that money and that big old farm for just the three of us, so I thought I could help others in a way. I always wanted to have playmates for Sarah, but who did she play with? Jesse “Future Felon” James Jr.

I had always wanted a daughter. I always enjoyed wearing pastel colors and doing my hair and wearing makeup, and since Darius was painting his nails when we met, you would imagine that we would have a prissy little daughter. Wrong. She used to whip little Jesse's butt coming and going. She was climbing trees faster than any boys in the area. She could run farther and jump higher. All she wanted to wear was these cut off dungarees and an Ohio Players T-shirt. Every day, all day.

I was concerned about her being so rough and tough, so I talked to her school psychologist. He said not to worry, that a lot of girls just go through this phase in life. So I decided not to worry about her and let her do her thing while I made clothes for the foster children and fixed their hair.

In late '79 Darius quit his job. He'd worked at this job for over eight months, and I thought he would at least get his
year in before stopping. In actuality we didn't need the money, because we had no bills and grew a lot of our food right there on the farm. But he came home one Sunday afternoon, dirty as a pig, and walked upstairs. I was sewing and Jesse and Sarah were lying down in front of the TV watching the Cowboys and Redskins game. When he walked in, I said hello, but he kept walking. I thought that was a little strange, even for a sometimes quiet guy like Darius. So I followed behind him upstairs and found him sitting on one of the foster children's bed. As he sat his jaw moved up and down, yet he wasn't chewing on anything.

“Darius, what's wrong?” I asked, standing in the doorway of the room as he sat quietly. He said nothing. So I walked up to him and asked, “Had a rough day? Why are you home so . . .” As soon as I said the words, he stopped chewing and glazed at me and I knew he was unemployed . . . again. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, because I knew it was the last thing he needed. I reached down to unlace his work boots, and in the blink of an eye Darius kicked me under my chin and knocked me across the room.

I grabbed my jaw hoping it was not broken, and he just looked at me and said nothing as I crumpled to the floor. I didn't want to cry because of the kids downstairs, but the pain radiated in my face like a neon light. Darius tied his boots up and walked back downstairs, and I didn't see him again for two days.

I didn't know how to handle this situation. I wavered between wanting to call to report the assault to wanting to call to file a missing person's report. Believe it or not, Darius and I had never had a real argument. Did we have differences? Of course, but we never flared up at each other. I guess we'd had a way of stifling it until it was all over, and it worked for us. We had been together by this time over eight years, had been married for three, and there was absolutely nothing in this man's character that could have prepared me for what he did. My dad, bless his heart, and mom used to get into it all the time. They would fight with verbal switchblades, which in a way was worse than physical
fights, because my dad could sometimes get brutal and left emotional scars that took years to close, not to heal but just close.

One morning at about 4:00
A
.
M
. I felt Darius slide into bed. I didn't know what to do or think. I wanted to kick him back or at least give him a nice, stiff elbow to the ear. And I also wanted to hug him, cry on his shoulder, and tell him how scared I'd been. Looking back, I think I was closer to the stiff elbow than the tears. But the swelling had gone down and I did neither.

The next morning I got out of bed and fixed the kids breakfast at 6:00
A
.
M
. like always, and before I was finished, I saw him walking out the door. This was the month of November and we had a few inches of snow on the ground. Suddenly I realized he'd walked out without a hat or coat or anything. Just walked out in his long johns. All the kids, except Sarah, saw him and burst out laughing as I ran to the window to see what the hell he was doing. I heard Sarah, who was not the oldest or even the largest, stand up and say, “Y'awl best'a shut up before I stick ya with dis ere' fork.” Darius walked out past his truck and my car toward the mailbox and started peeing. As he relieved himself, he put his hand on the mailbox, held his head back and really got into it. I went out on the porch without my shoes, and yelled, “Darius, what's wrong with you? Get back in this house!” He looked at me as if he were in a trance as steam came from the earth, finished his business, shook and tucked himself in and came back to the house.

A week later I did the shopping, and when I returned the phone was ringing. I dropped my bags and ran to the house because we didn't get many calls out there in the middle of nowhere. It was the police department. Darius had gone into the department store, pulled off his clothes, and started walking around buck naked wearing a pair of Stacy Adams and a cowboy hat. That's what the policeman told me. He didn't use an official-sounding term like
indecent exposure
or anything. He said, “Ma'am, your husband was in Wal-Mart buck naked.” Or was it “bare-ass necked”?

Anyway, I jumped in the pick-up and sped down to the
police department, assuming that since he did not have a record of any nature, I could bring him home. After evaluating him, they sent him to the psych ward at the hospital for observation.

I found out later that the reason Darius had not spoken much to me was because he had an aneurysm in his brain, which was affecting his speech as well as his thought process. The doctor told me it could have been dormant for ten years or more. That would explain why he was not too bright. He was a nice guy and all, but sometimes you would look at him and you could see that all the lights were not turned on.

The operation on the aneurysm left us almost broke. I had to pay cash for it since he had quit his job and had no health benefits. So after he was feeling better, I sold the farm that had been in our family since the 1800's and moved back to Miami with my husband, daughter, Jesse James Junior, and the foster children.

After returning to South Florida, I was constantly reminded of Henry. There was no way to avoid him. His face was on buses and cabs and he was in my bedroom on TV. At night Darius and I would sit there and I would feed him a little peach sherbet because he'd lost the use of his arms, and whenever the “Henry Davis for Congress” commercial would come on I could see my husband almost cry. Like I said, Darius was always a decent man.

It was about this time I started gaining weight. From stress and excuses, I blew up four dress sizes almost overnight. I could feel rolls on my stomach, the upper portion of my thighs started to turn black, and when I walked a flight of stairs, it felt as if I'd worked out in the gym for an hour. But in spite of all of my physical changes, Darius always looked at me when I undressed like he had the first day he had walked me to class in high school.

Unbeknownst to anyone, I started collecting Henry Davis memorabilia. I had a clipping of him at the dedication of a library, and I had one of him speaking to the state legislature
in Tallahassee. But the last one I put in there in 1982 was “Local D.A. Loses Bid to Unseat Congressman Moore-house.” While in Miami, Ronald Reagan took a photo with Moorehouse which appeared in the
Herald
and that was all it took to cement the victory. I could feel the pain as much as Henry did. I noticed he was married to this attorney, but I knew deep in my heart she could not love him the way that I had or the way I was afraid I continued to. Although I was married and could not imagine myself cheating, being in Florida made me want Henry more. After putting the kids to sleep and making sure Darius was okay, I would take whatever dessert was left from dinner and sit on the back porch just thinking of what we had. Then I would look at the moon and what-if myself past midnight.

My mom lost her right leg to diabetes in 1983. It was a tough time for her, with my dad, bless his heart, being gone and all. He'd died of a lung disease the previous year, so I moved my invalid husband and six kids into a four-bedroom house about three blocks from her home. I still had a little money from the sale of the property in Arkansas, and although Darius never knew it, I sent Henry a thousand-dollar check for his second congressional race.

Looking at my life, I decided it was time to make some changes, so I enrolled in Miami-Dade Community College's nursing program. I knew it would take a while, but as the saying goes, the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.

HRS came to my aid and helped me find someone to assist my mother while I was at school. Her name was Chianti', her skin tone was smooth and even, she wore thick-as-a-banana dreads with ebony lipstick, and wore Little John Lennon-like glasses. She would assist Mom in going to the bathroom and dressing and sometimes would even cook for her. I used to rush over to help out after doing my housework and getting Darius and the kids situated, but she always had everything under control. So one day she and I were talking and she asked me if I needed any help with my family since I was going to school. Although
I wanted to say no, I knew with a little help, maybe just for three hours a day, I could have a much better GPA and spend a little more time working out to get rid of the weight. So I said, “Sure, but when could you do it with your schedule and all?” She said, “No way.” She was going to school and had two other patients. But she said her boyfriend had decided at the last minute not to go into the military, and his folks were not too happy with the decision. He had moved in temporarily with her and they needed the money.

Her boyfriend's name was Brandon. He was eighteen, I was almost thirty, and it was the fall of '83.

Washington, D.C.

November 8, 2000

NBS News Studio

12:45
P.M
. EST

“Welcome back to our NBS Studios in Washington, D.C. This is Franklin Dunlop and we will be momentarily taking you to Chicago, Illinois, and Judy Finestein for an update on the new leader in the race, Vice President Steiner. If you are just joining us, after a few key victories in the Midwest, Ronald Steiner has taken a small lead in the race for the White House. He is at present narrowly ahead of the man who has led the race all night and in a way has been leading the race since his party's convention in August.”

“If you were not with us earlier, the vice president picked up wins in the states of Missouri, Indiana, Iowa, and Ohio, as well as his home state of Illinois, as expected. But the biggest victory of the past hour has been the Empire State of New York. Yes, the Steiner train has rumbled through the Northeast, and we are projecting New York and her thirty-three electoral votes will be carried by the vice president. The Baldwin campaign, which badly needed to take a major state if it was going to have any opportunity to win tonight, has had little to shout about thus far. The only state they have added to the fold is Arkansas, and we are told they are trailing badly in California, which would be the cornerstone of any chance they would have tonight for a victory. It has not been confirmed, but we are told as soon
as the results in his home state of Arizona are announced, Governor Tom will give his concession speech.

“As for the Davis campaign, they are still very much in the hunt and stand an excellent chance of winning tonight. They won a key victory in New Jersey and carried the state of Texas, which was a must-win state after losing in Florida. They have also won in Maryland and Massachusetts. As of this minute the numbers look like this:

DAVIS	172
STEINER	174
BALDWIN	118

“Now, for more on the state of affairs in the Davis campaign, we will go to Gus Edmond, who is standing by with a former Davis supporter in a small suburb of Atlanta, Stone Mountain, Georgia. Gus? Are you there?”

“Yes, I am, Franklin. Actually I am in Marietta and I am with a former Davis supporter who calls herself a Reagan Democrat, Mrs. Agnosia Clay. Mrs. Clay, tell me, how does one go from being a major and even vocal supporter of one candidate to a supporter of the opposition in such a short time?”

“Well, I just had to look at all the relevant facts. First, as a black woman, I think for myself just as many other black people do, and we don't feel obligated to vote for a person based on the color of his skin. I looked at the person he picked for his running mate, I looked at the new role his wife has taken in the campaign, and I also looked at the moral issues that Vice President Steiner pointed out so poignantly in the debates. I come from a family that has always voted Democratic and I have never pulled a Republican lever in my life except in eighty-four, but there comes a time when you have to make a choice as to what is good for America. I asked myself, would America be better off in the hands of Vice President Steiner, who has worked in government for the past thirty years or so and knows the ins and outs, or in the hands of Mr. Davis, who I just don't think is ready for
prime time? At least not as ready as the vice president, and in my opinion, now is not a time for on-the-job-training.”

Fontainebleau Hotel

Presidential Suite

Turning up the volume of another network, Henry responded to the knock at the door. “Who?”

“Henry, it's me.”

Standing up and walking backwards to the door so as not to miss a second of the results, Henry opened the door for his brother.

“Did you see me on TV?” he asked with a widSe-eyed puppy-dog look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Henry said, turning to him with a smile. “You did good, man. Really good.”

“Thanks. I was nervous as all get out. You see how they tried to get personal with the questions, but I wouldn't let them.”

“I noticed,” Henry said, sitting back down in his chair with his leg over the arm and looking at his brother, who fell on the couch. “So tell me. What's the mood like down there in the lobby?”

“I don't know,” Herbert replied, with a drink in one hand and a fistful of granola in another. “I mean, at first, people were going crazy, but now they're more subdued. Ed and I were trying to determine the mood of the crowd in Chicago and they seem to be a little quieter also.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. So you realize,” Henry said, looking back at the TVs in front of them, “it's gonna come down to California.”

“I was just talking to Willie Brown about that. I hate it, but we still polled well there as recently as Sunday night, so I feel good about it.”

“I know. But California scares me, man. It's still a conservative state, and I think a lot of moderates there feel good
saying
on the phone they'd vote for us, but when the curtain closes, they'll find it easier to vote for Steiner.”

“I don't know, I got a good feeling about Cally.”

There was a knock at the door to the suite. “Who?” the two brothers answered as one.

“It's, aha . . . it's me, Senator. Me and Penelope.”

“Let them in,” Henry said as he watched another defector, who had transferred from his camp to the opposition, being paraded out by the network.

“Ah, Senator Davis? Penelope and I have some important news to pass on to you,” Ed said, and inhaled a deep breath as he rubbed his palms together.

“What's going on?” Herbert asked, chewing his snack as Henry continued to watch the TVs.

“Umm, Senator Davis, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear me, sir?” Ed repeated as Herbert's chewing slowed and his eyes volleyed from the back of his brother's head to Ed and Penelope.

“Henry!” Penelope shouted. “Turn off the goddamn TV, for chrissakes!”

Herbert glared at her as she transferred her weight to one foot while crossing her arms over her large breasts and then composed herself.

Henry reached down blindly and picked up the remote. With a single click, all four TV sets went black. Refusing to look at Ed and Penelope, he asked, “Better?”

“Aha, yes, sir,” Ed replied, and put his hand on Penelope's as a clue not to repeat her previous performance.

“So, Penelope? Ed?” Henry asked stealthily. “Do they know who he, or they, are?”

“Know who? Henry? What the hell are you talking about, man?” Herbert questioned, thoroughly confused and about to spill his drink on his indigo blazer.

Silence loomed over the room as each person waited for another's response. And then Penelope snatched her arm away from Ed's grasp, and said, “
Sir
, were you informed earlier?”

Henry's thumb moved back and forth over the remote like a wiper over a windshield. After an elongated pause, Henry clutched the remote in his palm and looked at a
square of wallpaper above the TVs. “No need to inform me. You know how it feels to stick your finger in something hot,” he said with a sardonic smile, “or have grease pop on you when you're cooking? You know how for just a split second . . . you wonder just how badly it's going to bum? I've lived in that split second for the past six months. Just waiting for the bum. Maybe it's something primitive we have in common with other animals, but it's a queasy feeling you get in your stomach when death is around the comer.”

“What the fuck's going on! Who's trying to—” Herbert shouted.

“Hen.” Penelope lowered her voice. “Henry, they know who he is, and rumor has it he's in the hotel tonight. We haven't confirmed that with the FBI, but our people tell us he is here. Now,” she continued as Ed looked at her, “with the race as tight as it is, for security purposes the FBI and Secret Service would both feel more comfortable with you and Les in a more secure place. They would like to take you out of here, via helicopter from the roof. You can watch the results from—”

“Not gonna run,” Henry blurted out with a burst of air and looked at the delft-blue screens of the TVs. “I've waited for this damn moment my
entire
life, and I'm not gonna run and hide now. This is a part of the show.”

“But, sir, it's not a cowardly act and it's not running!” Ed replied as the eyes of the room landed on the small flushed man moving his hands like a demonstrative professor. “It's preposterous to stay here. If he has infiltrated this hotel, he may have accomplices. That's what we fear the most, and if he has, then the Secret Service said they could not guarantee our . . . I mean your safety in this place. What they would simply like to do is to—”

“Henry,” Herbert said. “Maybe we should consider this seriously. I mean, this threat, unlike the rest of them, could be for real.”

Looking at his brother, Henry continued to stroke the rectangular remote and asked, “Are you aware that I have received, according to the FBI, more threats in a week than the other candidates have received during the entire campaign?
One agent told me that during my campaign, I've received more level-three threats than the president has received in eight damn years in office!” He closed his eyes to gather his composure, as his Adam's apple slid up, and paused. “I'm not trying to be a martyr, and I know there are more than a few bullets with my name on them.” He clicked on the televisions and added, “But I believe in what we have done so far. So if some asshole tries to take me out because of it, I'm a man. So he can . . .” Henry's torso tightened as he opened his eyes, unable to finish the thought.

Ringgggggg
. . .

The Democratic presidential candidate picked up the cellular phone, listened a moment, then hung up.

HENRY

I could not wait to turn the calendar to 1993, because that was the year I actually started campaigning for the presidency. It was still seven years away, yet all the pieces were in place. Naturally, whenever anyone in the media asked me if I was running, I never said yes, yet was far from saying no. But in '93 we started targeting key benefactors in each state we would need for our run. My advisers felt we would have to have a minimum of twenty million in the bank or near our fingertips the day we made our intentions known. Planning for that in a quiet manner was not the easiest thing to do, but that was our mission.

I won the seat in Congress in '84 and won reelection in '86. And then I ran for, and won by a landslide, the U.S. Senate seat in Florida in 1988. That was the first time I made the cover of
Ebony
magazine and it was the easiest race I had ever run. The incumbent senator was in his third term and took us for granted. But we did a lot of grassroots campaigning and started the “One Man, One People, One Vision” campaign, whereby we would visit a work site in each county and my staff and I would spend a week working
just like the common people. One week in Tampa we worked as ditch diggers for the county, and in St. Augustine we spent three days in an elementary school reading to blind children and assisting the teachers. In Dade County we helped build houses with former President Carter, picked up 60 percent of the major city newspaper endorsements, and at every stop the media coverage grew larger and larger. By the time Senator Griggs noticed us, we'd tied him in virtually every county in which he held a lead, and weeks later we were looking at a possible landslide victory.