by J. J. Murray
They don't want me now ... because of Dewey.
Lord, help me to hold on to the good memories and let the bad ones go. From out here it may only look like a building of a million bricks, but it's Your house, Lord, and You better get in there and clean up that mess, better fix the bricks sittin' in them pews. You been gone too long.
I look up at the steeple one last time, and when my eyes come to rest on the double oak doors, I see Naomi looking out, her face all puffy.
"Ruth, I don't know what to say."
"Then, don't say anything, Naomi. Don't say a damn thing."
I walk down Vine a little ways and stop in front of Jonas's house. I look up in the tree and smile because the iron's still there. Good. Even if the ignorant sheep at Antioch forget me and my name, I don't ever want that man to forget me. Whenever he looks at my empty bench, I want that man to tremble.
Lord, help me to understand what just happened. All those people ... have turned their backs on me. Why, Lord? What good can possibly come out of this pain I'm feelin'?
`twenty-seven
Instead of going to Dewey's apartment, I walk aimlessly around Vine Street looking at rundown buildings, resting on grafitti-encrusted park benches, watching rusty cars go by. I give my feet some horrible blisters, burst into tears every other block, and scare the shit out of every pigeon or stray cat I come across. By the time I get to my apartment, I don't want to do anything but sleep, so I disconnect the phone and take me a power nap.
I am hard asleep when I hear some awful banging at the door. I throw on my robe and open the door. Dewey stands there looking pitiful.
"Where have you been?" he asks as he steps past me.
"Come on in," I say to his back.
He turns. "I've been lookin' everywhere for you, Ruth"
"Really?" I shut the door. "If you looked everywhere, you would have found me"
He sits on the couch and doesn't answer right off. He hasn't seen this side of me before. Come to think of it, I ain't seen this side of me either. "I was worried about you, Ruth"
"What for? I'm a big girl." I walk past him to my bed, slip off my robe, and slide under the covers. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Power nap. Close eyes. Count folks standing up for me and Dewey. One, two, three-no, that's Naomi sittin' on her hands, so two-
The bed sags. "I thought something bad had happened to you"
"Something bad did happen to me," I say without opening my eyes. "I got dissed by my church and disgraced in front of my church because of you, but don't let that concern you, Dewey, cuz you ain't really concerned about me."
"I am, Ruth"
"Uh-huh. You just mad that I wasn't where I was supposed to be"
I hear him sigh. "Okay, I'm a little mad, but mostly I'm sad. I don't like to see you cry. And I was kinda lookin' forward to gettin' married there. It's such a beautiful church."
I sit up. "Only kinda?"
He reaches for my hand, but I hide it under the covers. "I'm still gonna marry you, Ruth"
"Where? Where we gonna get married now? You got a church you go to that will marry us?"
"I'm workin' on it."
I stare him down. "You workin' on it right now at this very moment?"
"Well, no, but
"Then, we ain't got nothin' to talk about. Get out"
He looks away. "I'm, uh, I'm tryin' to talk to you. I'm tryin' to comfort you, Ruth"
"I don't need comforting, Dewey. There ain't no comfort for what I've just been through. Where are Tee and Dee?"
"Waitin' in the truck"
"Well, go on out and comfort them" I pull the covers over my head. "I need some sleep."
"You sure?"
"That I need sleep? Hell, yes!"
"No, I meant ... Are you sure you don't want me to be with you?"
I pop my head out of the covers. "Rein' with you got me into this mess; now get the hell out"
I slump to my pillow and don't say another word. The door eventually opens and shuts, and I'm alone.
Again.
I sleep through most of Sunday before I connect the phone again. As soon as I do, it rings.
"What?" I say.
"Ruth, it's me, Naomi, and I-"
I disconnect the phone again. She could have stood up for me. Sure, I still would have lost, but not to stand up for a friend you've had for twenty years twice in seven days? Who needs a friend like that? It just proves how shallow she is.
I sleep through most of Monday before briefly connecting the phone and calling Diana's. "I won't be in today," I say.
"I figured that already," Diana says. "How you doin'?"
"I ain't. Y'all busy?"
Because of me. The word is out, the gossip has got to be flyin' about me and Dewey, and ain't no one going to hear it at Diana's. What they afraid of? It ain't contagious! "Well, I won't be in the rest of the week"
"Just come back when you're ready."
"I ain't never gonna be ready, Diana. Just send me whatever you owe me and hire someone else."
"You ain't quittin', are you?"
"You ain't busy, right?"
"C'mon, girl. It's Monday. We're sometimes slow on-"
"No we ain't, and you know it. Everybody who is anybody comes in to gossip on Monday. They ain't gonna come if I'm there, Diana, so I ain't comin' back. Spread the word"
"They'll come back, Ruth"
"No they won't. Haven't you heard? I'm marrying a white man"
"So I've heard, but I don't see what that-"
"See you around, Diana."
"Wait, Kevin wants to talk to you"
I don't need this shit! A moment later, Kevin says, "Mrs. Borum, I mean, Ruth?"
"Yes, Kevin?"
"I just wanted to thank you for gettin' me to do that wedding. I gave my number to all sorts of folks at the reception, and some have already called. I'll be doin' three weddings, a couple anniversaries, a birthday-"
"That's great, Kevin," I interrupt. "See you around." I hang up and disconnect the phone.
I set the kid up to play at a wedding-which turns out to be the last time I play the organ for an entire service at Antioch-and now he's going somewhere while I ... I don't have a place to play anymore. Oh, that's fair, God. Thank You so much! Jump-start him, and ruin me.
Tuesday I connect the phone, but I don't answer it when it rings. It could be Tonya or Dewey, but then again it could be Naomi calling to apologize, or Jonas calling to gloat, or Diana calling to get my ass back to work. Least folks are concerned.
Now, if only I was.
On Wednesday I shower and dress, but I still don't leave the apartment. I put a kitchen chair next to a window and watch the world go by. Look at me, Lord. I'm just another woman who can't afford cable sittin' at a window. How much more pathetic can You make me?
A knock at the door wakes me from a mininap in the chair. "Who is it?" I call out.
"Dewey."
I don't get up. "What you want?"
"I brought you dinner."
From a convenience store, probably. "I'm not hungry."
"Could you at least open the door?"
YT
"I want to see you. I want to talk to you. Please open the door"
I get up and lean heavily on the door. "Where are the children?"
"Down at Mama's"
What? What they doin' there? "On a Wednesday night?"
He doesn't answer right away. "It's Thursday, Ruth"
Huh? Where'd I lose a day? I ain't on medication no more. Have I been sleepin' that long? "It is?"
"Yeah."
Dag, I been holed up for four days. "You been callin' me?"
"Yes"
"Well, why didn't you come by when I didn't answer?"
"I did stop by, but you didn't come to the door." I been sleepin' that hard? "I've been tryin' to tell you that we've been movin', and we just finished packin', and-"
"Did you say movin'?" My feet turn to ice.
"Yeah. I, uh, I withdrew Tee and Dee from Avery, and t
hey're goin' to school in Pine County now. Enrolled them just yesterday."
I open the door a crack. "You ain't shittin' me, are you?"
He shakes his head and looks at his shoes. "Um, I'm movin' back down there, too. There's a lot more room at Mama's house for the kids. It was gettin' kinda crowded in that apartment"
I've lost an entire day somehow, and now I'm losing my future family? Yes, Lord, You can lay someone low in a hurry. I'm a modern-day Job. You obviously ain't through makin' me pathetic. "How am I gonna see you, Dewey? How am I gonna see Tee and Dee?"
"I can see you after work, and you can come down weekends"
Wonderful. He'll be stank, sweaty, and tired after work, and I'll be stank, sweaty, and tired after working on the farm. Dewey's feet are gettin' as cold as the weather outside. "You turnin' your back on me, too?"
He takes a step toward me, but I shut the door in his face. "I'm not turnin' my back on you, Ruth"
"Sounds like it. You just moved your ass far away from me, right? You just turnin' tail and runnin' away. Again. That somethin' you do to black girls, Dewey Baxter? Wished I had me some kids of yours so you could send me money and I could come crawlin' to you for more money on my way to get a fix" What would I spend the extra money on? Fish sandwiches at Dude's? Grease can kill you if you suck down enough of it. And it even comes in a brown paper bag like a forty-ounce of beer. Yeah, I'll just sit on the curb and suck me down some greasy fish till I die.
"Please, Ruth. Just let me in, and I'll explain."
"You don't have to explain shit to me. You've made it very clear, Mr. Baxter. You just gonna run out on me like you ran out on Tiffany and your children. All I am is the sequel to Tiffany Jones"
"Please open the door, Ruth"
"I am not opening this door. You only gonna bring more hurt inside." "
His voice cracks. "I won't, I promise. I love you."
"You love Tiffany, too?"
"I don't know. Maybe"
"Maybe? And maybe you love me now?"
"I do love you. I might have loved Tiff back at the beginning, before the drugs, but-"
"So your love ends when the goin' gets rough?"
19 No.
"Sounds like it."
"Ruth, please, all this been rough, ain't it?" I don't answer. "I'm still tryin', right? I'm still here. I'm right here outside your door. I'm not running away. And I'm still trying to find us a church."
"You find us one?"
"No, not yet"
"Terrific."
"I've called all over."
"Sure you have"
"I have. I called all over Calhoun for a church to marry us by Christmas, and I even called a few churches in Pine; but they're all booked up"
"You call white churches or black churches?"
"Mostly black churches. Tonya helped me, and-"
"You tell 'em we were interracial?"
"Well, yeah"
What a dumbass! "Of course they're booked up, Dewey! Shit, soon as you tell 'em you're white and I'm black, they gonna be suddenly booked up. No one marries salt and pepper shakers around here"
"But there's an interracial church over in Sutton County, and the pastor says he'll be glad to marry us."
Really? Never been to one of those. "When?"
"Well, the pastor says we gotta complete an eight-week couples course first, but then-"
"I am not waiting eight weeks, Dewey." Eight weeks? Who gets married in January? "You promised me that we'd be married by Christmas."
"I know I did."
"Your promises ain't worth shit, are they? You go on and give up. I don't give a shit anymore"
"I ain't givin' up, Ruth. Look, I called that little chapel, you know, the one that only does weddings, and they can marry us the day after Valentine's Day. I signed us up for six o'clock."
Oh no he didn't! "You signed us up to be married at a wedding chapel at night? Shit, boy, just get us out to Vegas while you're at it."
"It was that or just gettin' the license and gettin' married at the courthouse in front of a judge. I wish you'd open this door so we can sit down and talk about it."
"I ain't havin' a courthouse wedding, boy, and I ain't openin' this door."
"Well, I don't know any other alternative. I don't know what to do " That makes two of us. "I need your help, Ruth."
"This is all on you, Dewey Baxter; so you had better figure something out quick, and you can't be doin' it talking to a damn door."
"You could open it."
"I could, but I won't. In fact, I ain't gonna open it till you got us a place, understand?"
I hear his hand slide down the door. "I understand, Ruth."
I listen to his footsteps fade away, and my heart sinks so low as I sink to the floor. Nothing is working now. Fred's gone. Naomi's there, but I don't want to hear her. My church simply isn't my church anymore, and the folks there are all gone in the head. Tee and Dee are gone. And now, Dewey's gone to do the impossible in Calhoun, Virginia. Ain't no one gonna marry us nowhere. I could make a few calls, but it'd only end up the same. Too many folks know me. Who's left that I can talk to now?
I scramble to the phone, connect it to the wall, and dial Tonya's number. I let it ring seven times, and then her voice mail picks up. "I can't come to the phone right now," she says in that sexy voice, "but you know why. Leave an interesting message, and maybe I'll call back" I listen to the beep ... and hang up.
Now everybody's gone.
Fuck 'em. I been alone before. I can handle it. Hell, I was alone for the last six years of my marriage. I don't need them. I don't need anyone.
I grab my jump rope and start jumping, no square of carpet under my feet to soften the sound, my robe flapping around me. I make the floor shake and the glasses in my cupboards rattle by landing on my heels. BOOM ... BOOM ... BOOM ... like a little boy's fists and head hitting a door. After ten minutes, I feel the blisters forming, growing, and burning on my hands-but I don't care. I hear my neighbors pounding the walls, the floors, the door-but I don't care. The phone rings and rings and rings because I forgot to disconnect it again but I don't care.
I don't care. I'm alone, and I don't care.
Wait. If I don't care, what the hell am I jumping this damn rope for? I stop, open a window, and toss the rope outside. The pounding on the walls stops. The fool at my door goes away. The apartment is silent except for the pounding in my chest, the rapid pulses in my temples, the drip of my sweat hitting the linoleum, the phone ringing and ringing.
"God, You and me gotta talk. Meet me at the playground in half an hour."
I bet He don't show, the wuss.
I don't put on a coat, don't even lock my door behind me, and go out into the night. I pass by leafless trees where beautiful houses used to stand, trip over uneven sidewalks still stained with blood, and walk under street lights that have been broken since I was a little girl. Bet God's too scared to come here. He ain't from the 'hood. I move into that playground at Avery and stand under the monkey bars.
"You got a lot of damn nerve, God," I say as I climb the ladder at one end. "You took away my mama, and you took away my grandma. What'd they ever do to You?" I lean out and grip the first bar with my right hand. "You blessed me with a marriage made in hell and provided me with a minister who probably still ain't quite sure what to do with his pecker" The cold bar cools the blisters on my hand, and I swing out. "You took away one of the best friends that I've ever had, and You even gave me a gift that I can't give anymore" I reach for and grab the next bar with my left. "You let my children, damn, You took, You stole my first four children, and now You're hiding Tee and Dee from me. You ain't nothin' but an Indian giver." I latch on to the next bar with my right and rest. "You let this world go to hell, God. Red and yellow, black and white my ass. Ain't no one precious in no one's sight down here" I reposition my right hand away from an open blister and swing forward. "Why didn't You make everybody all one color? This racial shit ain't holy at all." I take a deep breath and sw
ing my left hand for the last bar, grip it, and swing my legs onto the ladder at the other end. "And now ... I've made it across these damn bars hating Your holy ass, only there ain't a soul to see it cuz . . " I start to cry. "Cuz You've now taken the man You led me to ... You led me to Dewey, and You've taken him far away from me. Thanks for nothin', God"
I wander around Vine till I get to Tonya's and sit on the porch when no one answers the door. I see lights on at Naomi's, but I don't want to see her. I wait at least an hour, realize that I'm freezing my ass off, and walk home.
But it ain't home because I really don't have one anymore.
As soon as I shut the door behind me, I fall to my knees. Why I do this on the cold kitchen floor and not on some nice warm carpet, I don't know, but here I am praying in the kitchen again. Must be something I inherited from Mama and Grandma.
Lord, I'm sorry, but I'm not. I know the Bible says to be thankful for everything, but my list just ain't that long anymore. Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away, and I ain't even sure where I'm gonna spend it. I may end up spending it alone with a slab of pressed turkey. What do I have to be thankful for now?
I cry for a bit and let my tears mix with the drops of sweat on the floor. I know it's a damn pity party, but I just can't help it. "WHY?" I cry out, and that only leads to more tears.
I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes. Okay, Lord, I'm thankful that I'm thinner, and though I'll probably wake up with a nasty cold, at least I have my health. For now. I saw what You did to Mama, saw how You crippled Grandma, and I know You could take me at any time, but ... Thanks for keeping me alive. If I only knew for what! Thank You for Dee, too. And Tee. But no thank You for takin' their mama away, as messed up as she was. That was cruel. I know I probably wouldn't be in the picture if Tiffany was alive, but ... Why You got to hurt her kids like that?
I make two fists, then relax them, some of my tension easing away. Let's see ... Thank You for Tonya and Mrs. Robertson and junie and Fred and Kevin and anyone who stood up for me and Naomi. Yeah, even her. She has helped me through a lot of shit for twenty years, but ... Why'd You hold her down in her pew? Why didn't You lift her up?
I tap my fingers on the linoleum. Okay, okay, I have a lot to be thankful for, Lord, but You got a lot to answer for when I finallyget to heaven. You've put me through some changes, and You even helped me make a few on my own. I've held on to my sanity and my faith for the most part-and the only thing now is this hurt inside me which You can take away with a snap of Your fingers ... "Now, Lord," I say aloud, "I'm askin' that ... I'm askin' that You snap Your fingers and take away my hurt"