Every Woman's Dream (10 page)

Chapter 17

Lola

I
HAD NEVER SEEN
J
OAN LOOK AS BLISSFUL AS SHE LOOKED ON THE
day she got married. She was so beautiful in her bright green silk maternity dress as she stood next to Reed in his black tuxedo in front of Reverend Bailey. I was almost as happy as she was and I didn't have a husband in sight. I was barely holding on to my latest boyfriend.

Nobody would believe that Joan was the same girl who had concocted that lonely hearts club swindle that had almost got us both hurt, maybe even killed—not to mention the mess that her unsuspecting sister, Elaine, could have ended up in because of us.

Now that our scheming days were over, I thought back on everything from day one and admitted to myself that I'd been a fool—and a
crook
! My mother had raised me to be a respectable and honest person, especially if I expected to be blessed and go to heaven when I died. I thought if I became even more devoted to Bertha, God would cut me some slack.

Joan made arrangements to stay current with her schoolwork by doing it from home. I agreed to bring it to her. She would only come to school when she had to take a test or meet with one of her teachers. Thanks to the big mouths in her family, almost all of our classmates knew she was pregnant. Some were brazen enough to point and whisper about her when she showed up on school grounds. Joan was aware of it, but it didn't even faze her. Now that she was married, the level she was on was too high for something as small as gossip to bring her down. I was even more impressed. Except for her pregnancy, I still fantasized about trading places with her; to me, it seemed like she was in complete control of her life.

It pleased me to know that my girl was determined to get her diploma. So far, no member of her immediate family had not completed their high-school education, and two of her brothers and one of her sisters had gone to college. To make sure Joan didn't ruin the family's high-school completion record, her mother had told her in front of me and several other people, “You're going to get your diploma if I have to hold my gun to your head.” Joan vowed that she would graduate on time, but her diploma would be mailed to her, or she'd have to pick it up.

The newlyweds went to Aruba for a two-week honeymoon. It was one of the loneliest periods of time in my life. The first week was unbearable. Since the day I had become best friends with her in second grade, we had rarely gone more than a couple of days without communicating. Now that she was married, a new fear was brewing in me. Despite her claim that our relationship was not going to change, I was still afraid that I would have to find myself a new BFF. It had taken me a long time to groom Joan, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But it was what it was, and all I could do now was go with the flow.

I had no idea that a new friend would enter my life while Joan was on her honeymoon. That person turned out to be Libby's husband, Jeffrey. He was a firefighter, so he enjoyed helping people. Everybody adored him. He had always been nice to me, but he was about to get even nicer and do things to help make my life more enjoyable.

 

A week after Joan's wedding, Jeffrey came to the house to do some maintenance work that Marshall had been putting off for months. I was in the living room reading the newspaper when he called me into the kitchen, where he was gathering the tools he had used to repair a leak in the sink.

“What's up?” I asked as I stood in the doorway with the newspaper still in my hand.

“One of my old air force buddies is coming to the house tonight,” he began, speaking with his back to me. “I'm throwing a little get-together in his honor. We were in the same platoon. He reenlisted after I got discharged. When he got his discharge papers last month, he couldn't get back to civilian life fast enough.” Jeffrey turned to look at me with his light brown eyes sparkling. There were beads of sweat on his square-jawed, cocoa-colored face. It was hard to believe that a good-looking, nicely built man like Jeffrey had married a plump plain Jane like Libby. “I thought of something nice that you may be interested in.”

“O . . . kay,” I said with a shrug. I didn't know why Jeffrey was bothering to tell me about one of his “get-togethers.” Especially at the last minute. He knew I didn't like Libby and she didn't like me. The last person I wanted to socialize with on a Saturday evening, or any other evening, was her. “What is this ‘something nice'?” Libby was due to give birth to her first child in a few weeks. She'd been sick a lot lately, and I felt sorry for her. I'd even taken her some chicken soup and picked up her prescriptions a couple of times, but she was still as mean as ever to me. I was hoping that the “something nice” that Jeffrey was going to tell me was that Libby was too sick to attend the party.

“Mark's younger brother just moved here from San Diego and he's coming too. I thought it would be nice to have a young woman around his age for him to hang out with. Mark told me last night about him wanting to join us tonight. Otherwise, I would have mentioned it to you before now.”

“Uh . . . oh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What's wrong with this ‘younger brother'?” I rarely went on blind dates and the few I had experienced had been disastrous. I was tired of people pawning off a homely or oddball relative or friend on me. But since it was Jeffrey, I was willing to consider it again.

“There's nothing wrong with the dude,” Jeffrey said with a laugh. “He's smart and not bad-looking. But he's kind of shy, so he hasn't made many friends here yet.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass. I have a lot of things to do around the house this evening.”

Jeffrey stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips. “Lola, I can't do much about the way Libby treats you, but I can do a lot to help you deal with the way things are. If you and Ted—that's my boy's brother's name—hit it off, there is no telling what it might lead to.”

“Jeffrey, I really appreciate you being so nice to me. And I am glad that you know how hard it is for me living with and taking care of Bertha and having to put up with Libby and Marshall's . . . well, you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I don't know how you have managed to live with Bertha all this time without going crazy.” Jeffrey glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. “But I will say this, you need to stop letting her control your life.”

“I'm still a teenager, Jeffrey.”

“Well, you won't be a teenager much longer. I advise you to be strong and start putting some distance between you and Bertha. If something happens to you, God forbid, she'll have to fend for herself or force her children to take care of her. One thing that has always baffled me is the fact that Bertha's not that old and she's in fairly good health. I'm sure that most of her illnesses are in her head—and a way for her to make you feel sorry for her. I have relatives who are old enough to be her mother who still live on their own, and are doing quite well for themselves. My aunt Velma is eighty-six and she still drives, lives on her own, and has a boyfriend. As a matter of fact, most of the senior citizens I know, especially the ones in my family, they would never have a young girl like you underfoot! When my twenty-year-old cousin Ellen offered to move in with my grandmother, Granny Lou cussed her out and told her, ‘Hell no, you ain't moving in with me. I need my space,'” Jeffrey said with a straight face. I couldn't stop myself from laughing. He didn't laugh, so I closed my mouth and gave him an apologetic look. He took a sharp breath and continued. “There are a lot of things that senior citizens can do to make old age more manageable. In Bertha's case, as long as you let her, she will depend on you like a baby depends on its mother.”

I quickly processed Jeffrey's last statement and it immediately made my head throb. What he'd said was true and it was time for me to start weaning Bertha. “What time will your party start and tell me your air force friend's brother's name again, please?”

Chapter 18

Lola

I
WAS GLAD
I
HAD ACCEPTED
J
EFFREY'S INVITATION TO ATTEND THE
party at the big white stucco house that his parents had helped him and Libby finance. Despite the ongoing friction between her and me, I loved being in their home, though my visits were few and far between. I hadn't been a guest in two months.

As usual, every room was spotless. Unlike Bertha's dreary residence, which always had a mild musty scent, Libby and Jeffrey's place always smelled like roses. It was a beautiful place with trendy furniture, a fireplace in the living room, and thick maroon carpets on every floor, except the kitchen and the three bathrooms. I knew they had put a lot of money into their place because Libby shopped in the
highest
end of the high-end stores. She wouldn't be found dead in places like Walmart or Target.

I didn't know what kind of money Jeffrey made as a fireman. His father was a retired judge and his mother was from a well-to-do family in Dallas, so I knew he was not hurting for money. He'd attended private schools when he was a boy and had traveled all over the world with his family. What I couldn't figure out was why a man with his background would settle for a position as a fireman. But he enjoyed his job and he loved doing things for other people. Whenever Bertha asked him to come to the house to do maintenance work or to drive her someplace, he never disappointed her. She was thrilled to have such a humble son-in-law, and she mentioned it to me all the time. With a pretentious, loutish ox like Marshall for a son, it was no wonder she felt the way she did about Jeffrey.

No matter what his salary was and how much his parents contributed, apparently it was not enough for him and Libby. There was no doubt in my mind that some of the cash Libby “borrowed” from Bertha helped finance their champagne lifestyle. She drove a Toyota Camry and Jeffrey drove a Ford Bronco and they replaced their vehicles every two or three years.

Despite Libby's presence, I had a good time at the party. She was in a rare mood, which meant she was cordial to me. “Lola, don't you be shy. You can have a few drinks as long as you don't overdo it. I'd hate for somebody to call the cops and blow the whistle on me for letting a minor drink alcohol,” she said, stumbling even though she had on flat-heeled shoes. She wore a light blue silk dress with a matching turban, which looked more like a fancy do-rag. There was too much makeup on her face, and the wrong shade. What she had on was meant for a woman at least three shades lighter than her, like Joan.

Just as I was getting acquainted with Ted Mitchell, the man I'd come to the party to meet, the front door flew open and in walked Bertha in one of the outlandish flowered dresses she wore to church. Nobody seemed surprised to see her, but I was. For one thing, she had complained about feeling tired all day, so when she got into her nightgown around seven
P.M.
, I had assumed the only place she was going was to bed. Just before I'd left the house, I told her that Jeffrey's friend wanted me to meet his brother. All of a sudden, she claimed she didn't feel so tired anymore. The thought that she'd come to the party never crossed my mind.

I liked Ted even though he was not as cute as I hoped. He had an overbite, hooded black eyes, and long, wiry reddish brown hair. He was a couple of inches shorter than me, which made him about five feet three inches tall. I had on two-inch heels so he had to look up at me when we talked or danced. I liked him, anyway. I was interested in having a relationship with him, and he initially made me think he felt the same way.

“I'm glad you came tonight, Lola. Jeffrey's told me so much about you and I'm glad to see that everything he told me was true,” Ted said, looking me up and down, nodding his approval during our third dance.

“I'm glad I came, too,” I told him. He had a sense of humor, he was charming, and he had the confidence of a handsome man. That was more than enough for me.

I danced with several other men, and every time I scanned the room to locate Bertha, she was talking to Ted and glancing in my direction. I couldn't imagine what she was saying to him. The more time she spent talking to him, the less time he spent talking to me. He even turned me down when I asked him to dance again. That made me feel slighted. There was nothing worse than being rejected by a plain man! Whatever Bertha had said to make him lose interest in me must have worked. Because by the time the party began to wind down, Ted had lost interest in me completely. I realized that when I saw him leaving with Betty Jean Parker, the younger sister of one of Libby's friends.

I had come to the party in a cab and so had Bertha, but Jeffrey insisted on driving us home. It was a short but tense ride. She complained about how many “thugs” had been at the party and how bad her knee was aching.

“I didn't see any thugs,” I said quickly, turning to face Bertha. I was in the front seat with Jeffrey; she was in the back, slumped in a corner, with her arms folded and a sour look on her face. “Everybody was well-mannered and well-dressed and I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time with Ted. I hope I hear from him,” I admitted, hoping I didn't sound too eager.

Bertha rolled her eyes and grunted. “He seemed nice enough. I guess it helps to be nice when you look like him. . . .” I cringed and waited for Bertha to complete her bad review of Ted. “What happened to his face?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat. She followed that question with a hacking cough.

“His face? What do you mean?” I asked when she stopped coughing.

Bertha geared up the way she always did when she was in an insulting mode. She sucked on her teeth for a few seconds and then she leaned forward, placing her hands on the back of my seat. “Was he in a car wreck or did he walk into a wall or something? I hope he was not born with that wide, flat face. Hmmm. He probably was. His brother's got the same problem. Can you imagine how the other kids are going to tease and pick on Ted's kids if he ever has any?”

I refused to egg Bertha on by responding to her unflattering comments.

“Looks aren't everything, Bertha. A person's character is a lot more important. And from what I hear, Ted's a righteous dude,” Jeffrey said, glancing sharply in my direction. “Lola, I guess you didn't hit it off too well with him, huh? The way he pounced on you when you first arrived, I thought we'd have to pry you two apart. I don't understand why he shifted gears and ignored you the rest of the night.”

“Maybe he didn't like Lola after he'd talked to her for a while,” Bertha said with a grunt.

“I guess he didn't,” I agreed.

I had given Ted my telephone number a few minutes after we'd met. I figured he'd be good for a few dinners and maybe a few bedroom games. He didn't call me the following day like he had said he would. So when Donald Akins, a hottie and one of the best quarterbacks on our football team, invited me to go to the movies with him that Wednesday, I went.

 

Things went well between Donald and me for a few days. We went out three times. Then he suddenly stopped calling. He even stopped speaking to me in school.

I was glad when Joan returned from her honeymoon exactly two weeks after her wedding. We chatted on the telephone that Saturday and a few times the following week. She had been home two weeks when I visited her for the first time in the swank condo she shared with Reed. It was a Sunday afternoon. After she had told me all about Aruba and showed me a couple dozen pictures, I brought the attention around to myself. “I don't know what got into Donald all of a sudden. Things were going just fine. Bertha was nicer to him than any of my other boyfriends, so I don't think she scared him off. Anyway, after our last date, he suddenly dropped me like a bad habit,” I complained as we sat on the side of the huge bed in her lavish bedroom.

Every few seconds, we glanced toward the door. Joan had already warned me that Reed was a high-level snoop. He liked to lurk around outside in the hallway when she was in the bedroom with one of her relatives or friends. We had to be careful because he could barge in at the drop of a hat. She looked at me and blinked rapidly several times—a habit that annoyed me. It usually meant she had something to tell me that I didn't want to hear.

“I know what got into Donald,” she whispered. “Bertha Butt.”

“What in the world are you talking about? I told you she was always nice to him when he came to the house. When he ate dinner with us one evening, she insisted on fixing him a plate to take home because, as she put it, ‘his Nigerian mama knows nothing about how to cook a good American meal' and blah, blah, blah. I made sure not to leave him alone with her for more than a minute or two, so she couldn't have had enough time to say something too stupid or crazy about me.”

“Reed's cousin Minnie was at Kandy's beauty shop one day when Donald's mother was also there.”

I groaned and braced myself. “If you're trying to tell me that the beauty shop hens have been talking about me, please do so
now.
You know I don't like to be kept in suspense.”

Joan exhaled and hunched her shoulders, which looked like they belonged on a linebacker these days. She had gained a lot of weight since she got pregnant, but it didn't bother her at all. She just bought bigger clothes. Today she wore a bulky red flannel maternity top with a white collar and white cuffs. She was eight months along now and if she had a white beard, she'd look like Santa Claus. She noticed me staring at her outfit, so she gave me a slightly dirty look before she brushed off her sleeves and continued talking. “We both know what a cesspool of gossip that beauty shop is.”

“Cut to the chase,” I said in a loud voice, snapping my fingers.

“Anyway, Donald's mother blabbed that you screwed anything with a dick and that you had infected several of your boyfriends with STDs. She even called up her witch doctor uncle in Nigeria to get his advice on what to do in case her son caught something from you.”

I was so horrified I almost fainted. White-hot anger ripped through me. “What? Who does that woman think she is, spreading lies like that about me? I saw her only once in person and talked to her on the telephone a few times and I always treated her with respect. I thought she liked me.”

“Minnie told Reed, and he told me, Donald's mother told everybody in the beauty shop that day that she was going by the word of a reliable source.”

My shoulders slumped and I clenched my fists as I sat there, staring at Joan in stunned disbelief. I didn't even realize my crossed legs were shaking until one bumped into Joan's. I uncrossed them and unclenched my fists, but I was so angry it felt like my entire body had been put on hold. “Reliable source, my ass! Who in the world would say something that low-down about me?” I yelled as soon as I was able to move my tongue and lips again.

Joan gave me a distressed look. “I didn't want to tell you this, and I'm surprised nobody else told you before now, but somebody sent Donald's mother an anonymous note.”

I gasped so hard I almost had a panic attack. “And she's going by what somebody wrote in an anonymous note? Well, it's a goddamn lie! You know if I had a problem with an STD, you'd be the first to know. Remember that clap incident I went through a few months ago? I told you I had been infected before I even went to the clinic to get it taken care of and that was before I met Donald.” I had to pause so I could catch my breath. I was hopping mad. Had we been in my bedroom sitting on my bed, I would have punched my pillows several times by now. “Yeah, I've dated a lot of boys, but I've only had sex with four. They were all clean, but I made them use condoms, anyway—except Arthur Turner, the nasty buzzard who gave me the clap! That's why I refuse to let another boy touch me now unless he's wearing
two
condoms.”

“Shhh! Don't talk so loud. Reed could be outside listening. He's too nosy and too clingy for my tastes these days.”

I lowered my voice and continued. “Who and why would somebody tell a bald-faced lie as mean as that about me? I'll bet it was that bitch from the Washington Projects Donald used to kick it with.” I stopped talking and gave Joan a curious look. “Who else could be mean enough to send Donald's mother an anonymous note about
me
?”

Joan gave me a look that made me feel like the most pitiful person on the planet. “Well, one thing for sure, it was somebody who didn't want you to be with Donald.” She paused and calmly added, “Or any other boy.”

“What else are you trying to tell me?”

“I think you know.”

I knew that Joan was thinking the same thing I was thinking. “You're talking about Bertha, aren't you?”

Joan gave me a steely look and nodded. “Yep. Who else?”

“Oh, come on. Bertha is an oddball, but she wouldn't do something like that. Would she?”

“There's only one way to find out for sure—ask her.”