by J. J. Murray
Dee, who perked up steadily during the game, looks at me with those huge brown eyes of his. He doesn't want his medicine, and I don't want him to have any either. "I can give it to him," I say, and I hold out my hand to Dewey.
"It's okay."
I leave my hand there. "I have to use the ladies' room anyway."
He puts the bottle in my hand. "Just give him one with a little water," he whispers. "Just a tiny little bit of water. You understand?"
"Sure.,,
I take Dee's hand, and we walk into an empty ladies' room, going to the farthest stall and shutting the door behind us. I sit on the toilet seat and face him. "Dee, I have to tell you something. You see these pills?"
He nods.
"These pills are bad for you, you know that?"
Dee shrugs.
"They make you sleepy, don't they?"
He nods.
"They make you cranky, too, and I ought to know. I used to take pills like these, but I don't take them anymore" I open the pill bottle and drop one pill into his hand. "I'm not gonna make you take it, Dee. If you want to, you can just drop it into the toilet."
He looks at the pill, then drops it into the toilet.
"Feel better?"
He shrugs.
"Tell you what, any time you don't want to take these, you put it in the toilet. But if your daddy or Nanna is watching, you just put it under your tongue, and when no one's looking, you throw it away in the trash or something. Understand?"
He nods.
I rattle the bottle in front of him. "Sometimes medicine makes you sicker, Dee, makes you a zombie." I scrunch up my face and cross my eyes. "You don't want to be a zombie, do you?"
He shakes his head rapidly.
"Good. Now let's go out there and knock us down some pins."
During the second game, I get Dewey to help me position my feet. He doesn't touch me, but just having him standing behind or near me ... joy! I can't explain it. A man is staring at my ass, my legs, my feet, and he ain't grimacing or looking away. Though I don't bowl anywhere near my weight, I have a much better game, even getting two strikes in a row, and end up with a 165. Neither Tee nor Dee breaks 100; but they have so much fun, and I even catch Dee smiling up at me a couple times.
The whole "date" only costs Dewey ten bucks, and on the ride home, both Tee and Dee fall asleep between us.
"I loved the cake," Dewey whispers.
"Loved? Is it gone?" He nods. "I'll have to make you another"
"I'd like that. Um, did you really mean what you said in that note?"
"Yes"
He smiles. "I'm real new to all this. Tiffany raised them by herself, and, uh, I just don't know enough. I don't know what they like to eat, what clothes they should wear, when to bathe them. I'm learnin' somethin' new every day."
"You're doin' all right."
"I hope so °"
We're quiet for a spell, and I fight like hell not to ask him about Tiffany Jones, though his silence gives me the perfect opening. I can think Why didn't you do right by Tiffany? but I can't get that thought to my lips. I mean, I hardly know this man, and I'm gonna bust out and ask him why he did another woman wrong with that woman's children right here beside me? Sure I want to know. I sort of have to know so I don't make the same mistakes that she made. But what if I don't want to hear his answer? Maybe Tiffany was too fat or ugly. Maybe she was too rough 'n' stuff with her Afro puffs. Maybe she beat his ass, though I can't see that happening to Dewey. The man's ass goes all the way to his shoulders. Man's gotta lot of back back there ... Or maybe Tiffany had too much back and he couldn't handle it. Not many men know what to do with a big booty.
I watch him watching the road for a few moments, his massive hands wrapped around the steering wheel. No. Dewey knows what to do. He gave her two children. Bet he could slap him some booty with them hands. I don't know, maybe Tiffany was fat and sloppy and ate too much (like I used to do), or maybe she couldn't clean or cook or keep house. Maybe she didn't even like sex or liked it too much or used sex as a substitute for love. Hell, maybe she snored too loud, picked her nose in public, had pierced nipples and a nose ring, had a sixth toe, and sported a tattoo of another man on her ass. Whatever the reason, I'll let Dewey tell me about it when he's good and ready.
As long as he's ready to tell me soon, like tomorrow.
Dewey turns to me at a stoplight. "Well, Ruth, I'd appre ciate any kind of help you can give me. Mama tries to help out, but she's got a farm to run down in Pine County."
"What kind of help you need?"
"Any."
So many possibilities. "How 'bout if I walk them home from school on Tuesdays and Wednesdays? I'll be at Avery those days anyway. That will give you a couple extra hours to work so you won't have to work so late on Fridays."
"Tee told you"
„ Yep „
He sighs. "What hasn't Tee told you?"
"Not much"
"She knows too much"
"Yep. And I can mind them till you get home either at the playground or at my place on Vine."
"Deal," he says as we turn onto Vine.
That was a quick decision. "You ain't gonna think no more about it?"
"No" He smiles. "I'd be a fool not to take you up on this. If I put in two more hours those days, I can get home at a reasonable hour on Fridays. Can you mind them till, say, five?"
I could mind them much longer, Mr. Baxter. "Sure."
"Great. Where should I drop you off?"
I direct him to the apartment, Fred still in the same spot. "Are y'all free to go to church tomorrow?" Dewey doesn't answer, leaning up and squinting through the windshield. "That's just Fred. He's a friend of mine."
"Oh"
"So ... Are y'all free to go to church tomorrow?"
"Which one?"
"Antioch Church. I play the organ there"
Dewey blinks. "Um, I don't think so"
"You'll be my guest, Mr. Baxter."
"I'd feel out of place."
And the congregation at Antioch would help him feel more out of place. "Well, can I at least take your children? They'd like Sunday school, and I'd even let them sit with me at the organ during the service."
"I don't know."
"You'll get to sleep in. They'll be with me from nine to one at least."
He taps the steering wheel. "I'll think about it, let you know."
I open the door. "Don't wait too long this time, Mr. Baxter. Sunday school starts at nine-thirty sharp"
"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry about callin' you so early."
"Don't be. I had fun. Call me tonight, okay?"
"Okay."
I get out and shut the door. Dee stirs inside, yawns, and looks at me. I wave. He puts his little hand on the window, and I add mine. "Bye," I say, and I walk up the sidewalk as the truck rolls away.
"How was your date?" Fred asks.
I stare him down. "You tell me"
He closes his eyes. "Something about ... a booty pin."
I laugh. "Better clean out that jar, old man"
"What's a booty pin?"
I smile. "Ain't no such thing as a booty pin. God's pullin' your leg."
"He wouldn't do that to me"
No, I think as I climb the steps to the porch, He wouldn't. But I might.
fifteen
I'm almost sound asleep for a badly needed nap when the phone rings.
"Good morning, Ruth," Naomi says.
"Mornin'
"What are you planning for today?"
"Nothin'.
"Want to go shopping or something? We could hit some outlet malls."
Oh, joy. All day in a car to watch Naomi spend money. "Not today."
She's quiet for a spell. "Say, I was looking at today's paper, and I happened to look at the personals section."
Not this shit again. "Just happened?"
"Um, yeah, and I saw one that looks promising."
She reads these to me occasionally, and though it sounds like they're for her, th
ey are really for me. "Is this one for you or for me?" I ask this time.
"For you, of course" Of course. "Want me to read it to you?"
"No." I roll over and get more comfortable. "But go ahead"
"Okay. `Single black male, forty-five, dependable, honest, thoughtful, nice, never married, tall, serious, Christian churchgoer, nonsmoker, nondrinker, enjoys walking, spending quiet evenings at home, seeks single black female for friendship and hopefully a lifetime of passion.' He sounds so right for you, Ruth"
"Naomi, what are you tryin' to do?"
"Do? All I did was read-"
"I know you don't like Dewey. You've made that perfectly clear. Now stay out of my business."
"Don't take it the wrong way."
"How many other ways are there to take it?"
"I'm just saying that there are black men out there for you"
"Yeah right. First of all, a man has got to be desperate to put one of those ads in the paper." Naomi doesn't respond. What'd I say? Wait a minute. Naomi the Beautiful has an ad running in the personals?
"He might not be desperate," she says softly. "He might be shy."
Naomi's kinda shy ... hmm. "Come on, Naomi. Anyone who brags that much on hisself has to be lyin' if he's a real Christian. And I don't want to spend quiet evenings at home no more. I want to get out, go out. Shit, why don't you call him up or write him or whatever you do with those ads"
"I just might."
"Well, go on, then."
"I will. Goodbye, Ruth"
Click.
Daa-em. I can't take a nap now. I have to get to Hood's to get me a newspaper to check the personals for Naomi's ad. I grab some change and dash out to see Fred reading a newspaper. "Is that today's, Fred?"
"Yep" He folds it twice and holds it out to me without a word. I take it and find that it's open to the personals. "Third one down on the left," he says. "And the booty pin is the one in the middle."
Fred is one spooky man. I scan down the page and see Naomi's personal ad:
Christian SBF 35, no kids, n/s, n/d, likes attending church, working out, playing cards, bowling ISO SBCM for friendship first.
Her age is off by three years. It's just like a woman to lie about her age, but Naomi don't lie. Naomi never lies. Oh, my God! The ad in front of me has been running for three years? That's so sad.
But it ain't too sad to call Tonya about.
"You through with this, Fred?"
"Yep," Fred says. "You gonna need it anyway."
I rush inside and call Tonya with the news. "You know what our friend Naomi has been doing for the last three years?"
"Coloring her hair?"
"She has?"
"I don't know. You're her hairdresser. I was just taking a guess"
"You might be right, but did you know she has had a personals ad running in the Calhoun Times for three years?"
"Yes. I got one in there, too"
What? "No way, girl!"
"Sure. It's probably two columns over from Naomi's by now.,,
I trace a finger over two columns and find Tonya's:
SENSUOUS Ebony Goddess, 29, ISO SWM (25-40) who is healthy, financially secure, romantic, and has no kids, for the time of your life GUARANTEED.
"You ain't twenty-nine, Tonya"
"But I look twenty-nine, right? I want me a young stud with money so I can quit my job and lie around the house looking beautiful. And there ain't no black man in this town who's gonna give me that"
Two of the prettiest women I've ever known resort to this ... impersonal method of meeting men? "I never thought you had any trouble getting men, Tonya"
"I don't. I just like to keep all my options open. Even got an ad out on the Internet. I might get lucky."
"I prefer to make my own luck."
"Dewey call yet?"
"Yep. Today, and I already been out on a date"
"It's only ... ten-thirty"
"We went bowling." I describe the entire event, even mentioning the three booty pins Dewey missed.
"You must make him nervous, Ruth"
"I hope"
"And you bowled a one-nineteen and a one-sixty-five?"
"Yeah. Surprised myself."
"You on our team now, girl. Shoot, we might just win a game this week. Have you told Naomi?"
"No. She was too busy this morning tryin' to get me a hookup with a single black male."
"Age forty-five, likes to go walking?"
"Yeah"
"She tried the same shit with me last night. Heifer needs to get herself a life."
"And I need to get myself some rest. I used some muscles today I haven't used in years"
"You doin' anything tonight?"
"No. Dewey's supposed to call."
"I'll probably be home alone myself. Give me a call if you're bored"
"Okay."
I'm drifting off to sleep a little later when the phone rings again. "Hello?"
"The kids will be ready at nine," Dewey says.
Thank You, Lord. "Will you be going, Mr. Baxter?"
"Some other time."
"I'll hold you to that" And if you let me, I'll hold you to me, and then we'll see if your pin can knock my booty.
"See you tomorrow."
"Bye, Dewey."
I'm too excited to sleep after that, so I cook up some greens, pinto beans, and corn muffins to have me a country lunch. I jump a little rope while the water boils, and halfway through "Cinderella" I hear a knock at the door.
I open it and see Fred, jar in hand. "Don't tell me. God told you to come to lunch."
"No. Smelled it. This building needs replacement windows. "
"You wanna eat it here or in the basement?"
He looks at the jar in his hands. "Nice day for a picnic."
"It ain't but fifty degrees outside."
"Won't have no ants, then" He looks up. "Greens taste better outside anyway."
So ... Fred and I have a picnic, me wrapped in a blanket, him in only that windbreaker. I never thought I was that good of a cook, but Fred makes every bite seem like it's the best he's ever had.
"Corn bread's just right," he tells me.
"It's from a box," I tell him.
"Good brand, Jiffy." He holds up a muffin in the sunlight. "Ain't it nice how somethin' so simple as a muffin can make your day?" He takes a bite. "Yeah, it's just a muffin, but when you make somethin' with love, it just tastes better. You love him, Ruth?"
Where's this coming from? "Which `him' you referring to?"
"The white man"
I wipe my lips with a napkin. "Don't know. I hardly know him."
Fred laughs. "There's a lot there to love. Man's as big as a bus"
"He ain't that big. He's a country boy, and they grow 'em bigger in Pine County."
"He got a big heart, too," Fred says as he sips his tea. "Just never really opened it up before. His children are workin' on it, though. Yeah, children can really open up a heart."
The man is righter than right. I look at his empty plate. "Want some more?"
"No. Gotta watch my weight."
We sit in silence for a while. "Fred, how do you know so much?"
He shrugs. "It's a gift like any other, I suppose. Didn't have it all my life. Sort of developed it after Nam. Ain't the kind of gift I'd give to someone else, though. Don't like what I hear most times." He smooths the grass beside him. "But ever since I been sittin' here, it's all been good"
"You'll tell me if something's wrong, won't you?"
He cocks his ear. "Phone's ringing."
"For me?" He nods. "Who is it?"
"Good news and bad news"
I rush inside and grab the phone. "Hello?"
"Ruth, it's Jonas"
Well, if it isn't Mr. Bad News himself. But Fred said there was some good news comin', so I decide to be civil. "Hello, Jonas. Did Junie tell you that I-"
"Yes, yes," he interrupts. "But that Myers boy is not playing." "
Junie told him? I didn't think she had th
e guts. Good for her. "Why not, Jonas?"
I do not want a beggar playing at my wedding."
This coming from the man who chose Junie. There will already be one beggar at the church. "Kevin's no beggar. In fact, he has a steady job at Diana's now, playing inside off the street. He's really quite good, and-"
"He won't play at my wedding."
I take a breath and count to five. "Then, I won't either."
"Fine. 11
Fine? Just like that? Junie's gonna be pissed. Maybe this is the good news? "Anything else?"
"I'm tired of you embarrassing me."
"Me embarrassing you?"
14yes."
"How have I embarrassed you, Jonas?"
"Having that degenerate in your front yard, feeding him your scraps" Jonas has spies. "And today you have a picnic with him in broad daylight?"
"Fred is a remarkable man, Jonas"
"I'll bet he is."
Do I hear jealousy? From Jonas the narcissist? "Fred is a wonderful man. But anyway, how is loving my neighbor embarrassing to you?"
He doesn't answer right away. "You still have my last name, Ruth. When are you going to change it?"
When the right man comes along, I guess. When keeping it loses its effect on the congregation at Antioch. Two Mrs. Borums in the same church-I just have to see what confusion that causes. "I may never change it, Jonas."
"Why?"
"I don't have to give you my reasons"
"Ruth, for the sake of the church, you must change your name once Junie and I are married."
"Why?"
"You want me to look like a polygamist?"
Hadn't thought of that one. "Are you a polygamist, Jonas?"
"I knew talking sense to you was a waste of time."
"You're right. Guess I'm still just a little mentally unbalanced, huh?"
"You can say that again. Going out in public with that white man, the very same white man who made a fool of himself in our church. Have you no shame?"
Jesus! Jonas has white spies, too? "Guess I don't, Jonas. Must have lost my shame in the settlement as well. Least I had me some shame before the divorce, huh? Always good to have a marriage with at least one shameful person" He doesn't respond, but I bet he's grinding his teeth. "Oh, by the way, I'll have his children with me at Antioch tomorrow."
"What?"
"Don't worry. They're black, and they still have a sense of shame"