Authors: Mary Monroe
I cleared my throat and stopped smiling. “Nothing,” I managed.
C H A P T E R 8
I was probably the only person at the company I worked for who didn’t look forward to Friday. I didn’t know what to do with myself on the weekends anymore. My personal life had become so hum-drum that I preferred being at work to being in my own house.
I loved my husband. He was the most important man in my life and probably always would be. I loved him more than my own flesh-and-blood daddy. I still loved my daddy, and I always would, but he had not fulfilled my needs as thoroughly as Pee Wee. And even though I had forgiven my daddy for deserting me and my mama for another woman when we had needed him the most, some of the pain that that betrayal had caused would remain with me to my grave.
When Pee Wee was home, he spent most of his time slumped in that damn La-Z-Boy, watching TV, or outside, tinkering around under the hood of his car. His parents were deceased, and most of his family lived in Erie, Pennsylvania. The only time he left the house was to go to work at the barbershop that he owned and managed, fishing with some of his buddies, or out for a few drinks at one of the local bars. He hadn’t been to church in over a year, and the only time he visited my parents’ house a few blocks away was when I dragged him along with me. We had not been to a party, picnic, or any other social event together in months.
GOD AIN’ T BLIND
39
I loved my daughter, too, but when she was in the house, she wasn’t much company, either. I knew she loved me, but she took me for granted, almost as much as her daddy. In her case, it didn’t bother me so much. She was a typical child. As long as I fed her and took care of all her other needs, she was satisfied. And like most of the kids her age, she didn’t want to hang out with her mama. She had a lot of friends in the neighborhood that she liked to visit and hang out with at the malls and playgrounds. When she wasn’t with her friends or my parents, she liked to lock herself in her room and read. She had inherited her passion for reading from me, and I encouraged her to do it as much as possible. I just had to monitor what she read. Even though she was just ten, I didn’t have a problem with her reading material meant for teenagers.
However, I did have a problem with her reading “adult” books, such as those by mega-writers Danielle Steel and Jackie Collins—even though I enjoyed and admired both writers myself.
To this day I believed that if Rhoda had not allowed her daughter, Jade, to read books by those two writers, and others like them, when she was Charlotte’s age, the girl might not have turned out the way she did. She was the daughter from hell, and that was the nicest way I could describe her. I cringed when I recalled the times I’d caught Jade reading
The Joy of Sex
and
The Happy Hooker
when she was just twelve. I would always believe that books like that had contributed to her two abortions, her torrid lesbian relationship with another teenage girl, her arrogant personality, and only God knew what else. Lately, I’d been thinking about writing a book myself after all the shit I’d been through. It would give me more to do with all the time I had on my hands.
Had it not been for my job as a manager at Mizelle’s Collection Agency, I didn’t know what I would have done with myself. I usually took my breaks in my office. Since I had a large corner office all to myself, which I had decorated with a red oak desk and matching cabinets, I had privacy and all the comforts of home. I had a portable black-and-white TV on a small oak credenza next to my desk, which I could watch during my breaks or lunch. I kept a mini-refrigerator in a corner by the window, which was always stocked with bottled water, juice, and even a few beers. There was even a low sofa against the wall by the door, which I could stretch out on when I wanted to.
40
Mary Monroe
I had worked most of my adult life, but Rhoda had lived a life of leisure for most of hers and still did, in my opinion. During our teens, while I had worked in the bean fields to earn some of my spending money, she’d lounged around the huge house that her daddy owned, trying to decide what to buy next with all the money she had access to. Her daddy had been the only black funeral director in Richland, Ohio, at the time. One thing about black folks back then was that they could always be counted on to keep a funeral director in business. Sadly, that was still true today, even more so. We had an increasing problem with gangs and drugs to thank for that. The current black funeral director was the wealthiest black man in town.
Rhoda called my office around ten that morning. “Are we still on for drinks this evenin’?” she asked, yawning into the phone like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“I hope so,” I said, my voice dry. “I can’t leave until five, though.”
“You are the boss. You can leave whenever you want to,” Rhoda replied. “I do.”
“You don’t have a real job, Rhoda. You can afford to do whatever you want to do,” I reminded her.
“You might not think what I do is real work, but it is,” she replied and pouted.
Rhoda operated a licensed child-care center. She took care of several children in her home, all under five, five days a week, while their parents worked. She had Lizel and another woman from the church working for her. They did most of the work, while Rhoda kicked back with her lover or went shopping with me on my lunch break. I was used to Rhoda protesting and pouting when I accused her of not having a real job.
“Uh, I hope you don’t mind if Louis joins us. I really want you to get to know him better,” I blurted.
“I already know him. I’m the one who hooked you up with him in the first place, remember?”
“I know that. I just want you to get to know him as well as I do now.”
“Look, girl. My agin’ pussy gets enough action already,” Rhoda said and chuckled. “You sharin’ your barbecued ribs or chicken GOD AIN’ T BLIND
41
with me is one thing, but Louis is one piece of meat you can keep all to yourself.”
“Be serious,” I scolded. “He . . . he’s already changed my life in a big way. I can’t stand not being around him.”
“Now you just hold on there a minute, Glenn Close, as in that old movie
Fatal Attraction
. I do not want to be part of any crazy stalking shit, if that’s what this is. I hope you tell me that this little ditty is nothin’ more than a fling.” I could hear Rhoda grinding her teeth.
“I would never get that crazy over a man,” I snapped.
“I sure as hell hope not. I don’t want you to get so caught up in this affair that you leave Pee Wee. I can’t hurt him after all these years that he and I have been so close.”
“Rhoda, I’m the one sleeping with Louis. Not you,” I reminded her.
“Didn’t I just remind you that I’m the one who hooked you up with the man? Had I not, we would not be havin’ a conversation about you leavin’ Pee Wee. He’s been my boy since we were eight, and you know that.”
“Woman, I wish you’d make up your mind. You didn’t let the fact that Pee Wee was ‘your boy’ stop you from encouraging me to have an affair. There is a possibility that I would have done it on my own, anyway, but it probably wouldn’t be with Louis if you hadn’t pushed me.”
“Oh no, you didn’t! No, you didn’t just say what I think you just said! You are a grown-ass woman, and you’ve got a mind of your own. You got involved with Louis because you wanted to, not because I wanted you to. And for the record, had it not been him, like you said, it would have been some other man. Don’t you dare try to lay this shit on my doorstep. I’m not goin’ to take the blame for your marriage goin’ kaput.”
“Is that what you think? You think my marriage has gone kaput?”
“You tell me.”
“I love my husband as much as you love yours.”
Rhoda clucked like a wet hen before she started to laugh like a hyena. “That’s not sayin’ much.”
I gasped. “Are you telling me that you no longer love Otis?”
42
Mary Monroe
“Oh, I still love him to death. He was my first love, and he will be my last. I’m better off with him than I’d be without him. He’s a good man . . . I guess.”
“You
guess
? That doesn’t sound very romantic,” I pointed out.
“I learned from my mama and the other women in my family that at some point a husband’s functions have to change. So what if the sex is over? As long as the man does the other important things that he’s supposed to do, it’s still all good. It’s unrealistic to expect one man to fulfill all a woman’s needs in this day and age.”
“Mine used to,” I said in Pee Wee’s defense.
“
Used to
is right. And I am sure that every single one of the Kennedy wives can say that, too. The bottom line is, I love my husband. He’s a good man, and I want to hang on to him.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. My husband is a good man. But Louis is . . . He’s a good man, too. He’s what I need right now, and as long as he’s keeping me happy, I will be with him . . . unless we get caught.”
Silence hung in the air for a few seconds like a bad odor. “I’m scared of you,” Rhoda gasped. “This sounds like more than just a fly-by-night fling. Is this thing with Louis really goin’ to go somewhere?”
I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to Rhoda’s question. I took my time answering.
“Hello? Are you still with me?” she hollered.
“I’m still with you,” I mumbled, still trying to come up with an answer to her question.
“Did you hear what I just asked?”
“I did. I don’t know if this is going to go anywhere or not. From what Louis has said so far, it sounds like he wants it to.”
“Do you want it to go somewhere?”
“I don’t know. . . .”
C H A P T E R 9
“You don’t know?”
“That’s what I said,” I whimpered.
“I know damn well what you just said. What I want to know is, what the hell do you mean by that? What do you not know? And don’t start talkin’ that shit about you bein’ a happily married woman again. It’s borin’ as hell, and I don’t believe in that shit. Life is too short for you, me, or any other woman to be sittin’ around claimin’
to be so happily married, nothin’ else matters. Fuck that shit, and fuck whoever said it in the first place.”
“Rhoda, you know me better than anybody, including my own husband and my mama. You know I don’t jump into anything too fast or too deep,” I said, pausing to catch my breath. I was about to continue, but Rhoda cut me off.
“There is a first time for everything, Annette. For one thing, you need to get with the program before it’s too late. You need to start goin’ with the flow like the rest of us, while you still can.”
“I am . . . I mean, I will. I have been frustrated a lot lately, and I’m getting damn sick of it.”
“That’s why you are doin’ somethin’ about it,” Rhoda told me.
“And Louis is the perfect specimen for you to experiment with for your first affair.”
I couldn’t believe my ears! Rhoda was my best friend, and she 44
Mary Monroe
was as smart as a whip, but she sure knew how to tune up her mouth to say some of the stupidest shit I’d ever heard. “My
first
affair?”
“You know, in case Louis doesn’t get the job done right. You might have to try on another one.”
“Girl, I know damn well you don’t think I’d make a habit out of having affairs. If it doesn’t work out with Louis, that’s it for me. But do you know what, Rhoda? I like Louis. I like him a lot. And that scares the hell out of me. If he wants to take this to another level, I will. I mean, how long could it last, anyway?”
“Speak for yourself. Bully and I have been goin’ at it for more than a generation, and we haven’t slowed down a bit. As a matter of fact, that dick he whips me with is sweeter than ever,” she said and snickered.
“I know, Rhoda,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’ve told me that fifty or sixty times.” I sniffed and looked toward my door. Before I could speak again, my other line rang. “Rhoda, hold on. Somebody’s calling on line two.” It was Louis.
“Hello, Lou,” I cooed. There was something about this man that made me feel downright dainty. That was something that neither my husband nor any other man had been able to do so far. That made Louis all the more special to me. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you Lou.”
“Baby, you can call me Quasimodo if you want to. Just as long as you call me.”
My entire body got so hot, I had to spread my legs so I could fan my crotch with the
New York Times,
one of several newspapers I read each day. Then I smiled so demurely, I could hardly stand myself.
“Is there any way you can get away for a few hours later tonight?”
he asked.
I stopped fanning myself and dropped the newspaper back onto my desk. “Tonight?” I asked stupidly. “Uh, I think so. What do you have in mind?” I rubbed my thumping heart as I listened.
“Girl, I’m gwine to roll you like your back don’t have no bone,”
he vowed.
“Hmm. That sounds like fun. And I’m gwine to let you roll me like my back don’t have no bone.”
I was not trying to be funny, and I was not intentionally making GOD AIN’ T BLIND
45
fun of his semi-countrified diction. He had such a nice deep voice that I would have enjoyed listening to him even if he spoke to me in Gaelic. Even that would have sounded poetic to me coming from him. I didn’t want to share something this silly with Rhoda, because I didn’t want her to tease me about it or think that I had gone off the deep end. I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. I was beginning to think, act, and feel like a lovesick old fool
“Well, after drinks with your friend, I thought I’d bring you to my place so I can treat you to one of my gourmet meals. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, can whup up a Yankee pot roast as good as I can. I just want to warn you that I don’t live in a penthouse or a nice house, like I know you must live in. But I am proud of my little home, anyway.”
“Louis, if you lived in a shoe, that would be your business. I appreciate you wanting me to see it.” What I wanted to say to Louis was, “If you will let me come to your residence, that’s proof that I don’t have to worry about another woman.” Even though he had told me that he was not involved with somebody else, that didn’t mean that it was true. It was always in the back of my mind. But that thought was on its way out of my mind now. “I’d love to see your place.”