Pernicious

by Henderson, James

  “Shirley, puh-leeeeasse!” Kimberly said. “She ain’t all that!”

  “Yes, she is,” Mrs. Banks said dryly. “Might as well admit it. She’s all that and a bag of ice. Ty wouldna left me and his kids for some crackhead he let crawl up in his truck. Uh-uh, no way! He was getting old and he wanted to feel young again, you know. How men are when they start getting old. And he knew I wasn’t doing anything I hadn’t been doing.” She stopped and stared at her cards.

  “Your play,” Joanne reminded her.

  She pulled from the deck, dissed the card. “She didn’t even go to the funeral. She had all that money and she buried poor Ty in a pine box with knotholes all over it. Wasn’t nothing I could do--she had all the rights. She’d asked me, I would’ve scrounged up enough money for a decent funeral.” Shaking her head: “It was the saddest funeral I’ve ever attended…the saddest.”

  “Did Donny leave?” Joanne said, an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  Mrs. Banks ignored her. “I swore ‘fore God, Reverend Black and Ty thirty-seven years ago that I would never know another man outside of Tyrone Banks. To this very day I’ve kept that vow.” Tears rolled down her face.

  There was a long silence; it was Mrs. Banks’ turn to play again. No one commented.

  A hissing from the stove interrupted the quietude.

  “My greens!” Mrs. Banks exclaimed, rushing to the stove. “Damn!” She took the smoking pot to the back door and threw it out.

  Kimberly laughed. “First you burned the cornbread, then the peas, now the greens. What’s next?”

  “I might burn your fat ass,” Mrs. Banks said, grinning.

  “See what that smells like.”

  Tasha took another sip of her drink; now it didn’t taste as strong. She could feel the effects of the gin, slowly but surely creeping up on her. Lightheaded. And she no longer wanted to talk about death and murder. She wanted to socialize with these women, laugh with them, talk with them about anything except the reason that brought her here.

  “I wonder,” Kimberly was saying to Mrs. Banks, “what happened to her daughter?”

  Mrs. Banks took a generous sip of her drink. “Last I heard she was living with her grandmother down in Dawson. I feel for any child with a mother like that woman. She sent that girl to the funeral all alone. Pitiful. Just pitiful!”

  “What was her name?” Kimberly asked.

  “I forgot. Hold on, it’ll come to me. I know it starts with a K. Keisha…Kenyata…Keshana, that’s it.”

  “What?” Tasha said, snapping to attention. “What did you just say?”

  The three women stared quizzically at Tasha.

  “The name Keshana, who were you referring to?”

  “Perry’s daughter,” Kimberly answered.

  “Her name is Keshana Green?” Tasha asked.

  “I don’t know ‘bout the Green part,” Mrs. Banks said. “I know her first name is Keshana.”

  Chapter 5

  Every square foot of her front yard, except the driveway, was covered with flowers. Oriental poppies lined the base of the house from end to end, their hue so brilliantly crimson the house appeared to bleed. Purple foxgloves ran along one side of the driveway, while red, yellow and white roses ran along the other.

  There the symmetry ended. Petunias, verbascums, delphiniums, chrysanthemums and helianthemums were scattered throughout the yard in no discernible pattern. A chaotic profusion of colors.

  Perry abandoned the shovel and stepped back to admire her handiwork. She’d planted every flower, pulled every weed and clipped every…She wasn’t sure what exactly she’d clipped, but if it was clipped, she’d clipped it.

  A pink two-story antebellum with four columns shadowed the yard.

  Perry had replaced the original portico with a double-tiered, cast-iron railed gallery. She’d stained and varnished all the shutters and replaced the prison-gray colored wooden door with a solid brass one, shipped all the way from Horsehead, New York. When the sun hit it just right, the reflection glimmered like a star.

  “Mine,” Perry said under her breath. “All mine. Bought and paid for.”

  She smiled, fought the urge to laugh, remembering the day she first laid eyes on the house.

  Oh, what a glorious day that had been…

  All the agents at Plantation Realtors busied themselves about the office, each acting if she were a piece of furniture.

  She waited patiently for an hour or so before standing and shouting, “I want to buy a damn house!”

  A gray-headed white man strolled over to her and directed her into a small office.

  “I’m looking to buy a house and I’ve been sitting out there over an hour while others have come and gone.” Louder: “This shit continues, I’ll take my business elsewhere!”

  Gray-head frowned and laid a picture portfolio on the desk. “Miss, why don’t you take a look at these. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  “When you go, send someone in who wants to sell me a house.”

  The man left hurriedly, and several minutes later another man, with twitchy eyes behind thick bifocals, entered.

  “Excuse me,” he said stiffly. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not yet,” Perry said.

  “So,” eyes resting everywhere but upon her, “you’re inquiring about a house?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, you do understand that here at Plantation Realtors…we’re not equipped to handle HUD applications.”

  Perry had anticipated this. “Is it my shoes?” stomping her foot. A small cloud of dust rose from her loafers. The man coughed. “My shirt?”

  She pulled a strand from an already torn fishnet shirt, causing another tear, exposing more of her bare breast. “My shorts?” She ripped a handful of threads from cut-off blue jean shorts.

  “Miss, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave,” the man said, looking aghast.

  Three white men stood in the doorway, abject disgust painted on their faces.

  “Edgar,” one of the men said, “should I contact the authorities?”

  Perry leaned back in the chair and rested her dusty loafers atop the desk, executive-style. Another cloud of dust rose up.

  She coughed daintily in her fist. “Excuse me, Igor! I would like to buy a house, preferably in Chenal Valley. I’m prepared to pay a half million dollars…in full…today!”

  “W-wh-what?” Edgar stammered.

  “What my ass!” She leaned to her left and pulled a checkbook out of her back pocket and tossed it on the desk. “If there’s any doubt, call the bank. Meanwhile, you either show me something that tickles my fancy…or kiss my stanky black ass!”

  After calling the bank, they chose the former. Three agents, each praising her effusively, rode her around in a van.

  “I want this one,” Perry said the moment she saw the pink house.

  “Don’t you want to view it first?” asked Edgar.

  “No,” Perry said.

  “Are you sure?”

  Perry turned on him. “You thought I was a HUD hoe stumbled into the wrong office you were ready to call the police. When you discovered I have money, you and your partners fought to be the first to kiss my ass. I said I want this one. Hook it up…or kiss something else!”

  Edgar cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Where did you get so much money? Perry knew that question troubled their minds, yet they never asked.

  She dusted off her clothes and stepped into the house. Where did you get so much money?

  She walked upstairs to the bathroom and sat on the rim of an antique metal tub, which had also cost her a small fortune.

  “Tyrone,” she said as the water cascaded against metal. “Tyrone gave it to me.”

  She undressed and eased into the water and allowed her thoughts to float back…

  There was a soft knock at the door.

  Tyrone stood there, his expression solemn.

  “Aren’t you coming in?”

/>   “Perry, I’m sorry. I really need to go home and be there for my kids. My youngest boy, Donny, he’s having problems at school.” ”

  “He’s retarded. Tell him to start studying for the GED. Are you going to stand there or come in?”

  He obviously did not want to enter, but he did, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Perry closed the door and locked it.

  “Tyrone, I’ve always wanted what you wanted. You know that. If you want to go back to your kids, though most of em old enough to take care of their damn-self, then I want you to be with your kids. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He sat down on the arm of a black loveseat, wringing his hands. “Are you serious? I really thought you would…”

  “Would what, Tyrone? Throw a fit?” She strolled to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Really, Tyrone, you don’t know me very well.”

  “Maybe I don’t. I’m just glad you’re taking it…Hey, look at me, a fat old man. You can do better than someone like me.”

  “Have you filed for divorce yet?” She handed him a glass.

  “Uh, I will later today.”

  “Our accounts…the insurance policies, four-o-one-K, mutual funds.” She twisted the top off the bottle. “Do you intend to leave them intact, as they stand now?”

  Tyrone cleared his throat. “No. I think I should change everything for the kids.”

  “Not a problem,” pouring champagne into her glass. “I have one request, Tyrone. One. Is that too much to ask?”

  Tyrone looked uncomfortable. “What?”

  “A toast to what we had…and what we could have had.”

  Tyrone stared at the bottle as if it were a snake. Perry put the glass to her lips, winked at him and drank it dry. “You don’t think I’d poison you, do you?”

  Tyrone glanced at his watch. “Really, I should be going. I left the truck running.”

  “Gosh, Tyrone. You can’t even have a toast? Don’t you at least owe me that?”

  Tyrone sighed. “Okay…just one.”

  Perry filled his glass to the rim. Tyrone sniffed it, his eyes searching hers.

  “It’s better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all,” Perry said, and clinked his glass.

  Tyrone took a modest sip and sat his glass on the table. “I better get going.”

  She crossed to him and kissed him. “One last time, Tyrone.”

  He shook his head.

  Perry stepped back and loosened the sash on her terry-cloth robe. “One last time, Tyrone. One for the road. Tell me you can walk out the door without enjoying this pussy one last time.”

  She let the robe slip to the floor.

  Tyrone looked conflicted; he wanted to go right now, but before him…Perry stood stark naked.

  No way could he resist.

  “Al’ight, already,” he said, going to her. “One last time.”

  They kissed furiously, gasping for breath. She worked him toward the loveseat and they fell down on it, their lips never departing. She grabbed his sex, rock hard.

  “Wait,” she said, getting up. “I’m dirty. Let me take a quick shower. It won’t take a second.”

  Before he could respond, she was skipping off toward the hallway.

  Perry entered the bathroom and turned on the shower faucet, but did not get in. Instead she tiptoed into the hallway and peered at Tyrone. Naked. He was, like he’d said, a fat old man. His distended stomach appeared larger than his entire body, and his ashy, dark skin hung loosely around the arms and thighs. He sat there on the loveseat staring at his erect penis.

  “Hey,” he yelled, “you better get out here! I don’t know how long I can keep this boy up.”

  Perry tiptoed back into the bathroom and shut off the faucet and waited a few minutes more.

  She re-entered the room, wet with nervous perspiration. “You ready?” she asked.

  “I’m ready and willing!”

  “Let me lie down.” Tyrone got up and she stretched out on the loveseat, throwing one leg up on the headrest. “Come get it!”

  Tyrone had to have surprised himself; he was still going, huffing and puffing like a truck hauling an oversized load, yet still going…and going…Perry sped up the action, pushing her pelvis up to meet his down strokes…“Fuck me, baby!” she encouraged him. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” She moved even faster. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!…Faster!…

  “…Faster!…

  “…Faster!…”

  A while Tyrone kept up, matching her stroke for stroke, then suddenly he wailed, “Aaaaaaugghhh!”

  Tyrone often wailed during intercourse; this time, however, he clutched his chest.

  Perry pushed him off and he rolled to the floor. “Call an ambulance,” Tyrone gasped, sweat blotching his anguished face. “I think I’m having a heart attack!”

  “Are you really? A real bona fide heart attack? Tyrone, a heart attack can kill you. Of course, you know that--you’ve had one before.”

  “Call an ambulance…please!”

  “Hmmm! Call an ambulance? Do you think that’s a good idea? I’m naked, you’re naked. What will my landlord think? You’re still hard, Tyrone. We were so close, a grunt or two shy of rapture. An inconvenient time to have a heart attack, Tyrone, sugar. Couldn’t you have waited till you got back to your ex and your kids, who you rant and rave about so much. I’m sure they would know what to do in an emergency such as this.”

  Tyrone groaned. “Just…call an ambulance…please!”

  “I guess I should, Tyrone.” She started toward the kitchen…stopped. “Naw, I think not. They might think I put something in your drink, you know, a little something to get you worked up.”

  Tyrone started clawing his way to the kitchen. Perry stepped over him, disappeared a few seconds before returning with a gold Princess phone, unhooked.

  “Help me, Jesus…please, Jesus! Help me!”

  “Help him, Jesus! Help him die!” Perry laughed, knelt down beside him and grabbed his sex. “The sooner you die, Tyrone, sugar, the sooner I collect the insurance money, the retirement account, the whole fucking shebang! The sooner I can buy a house and get out of this funky, little apartment.”

  Shaking her head: “You should have known I wouldn’t let you give all my money to that lazy lush and her dimwitted delinquents.”

  “Our Father,” Tyrone sputtered, his breathing labored, “whose art is in heaven. Hallow be Thy name…Your kingdom calm…”

  “You haven’t prayed in a long time, have you, Ty, sugar? Well, I hate to tell you, it’s a little too late now. You’re dying, man-up and deal with it!”

  There was a noise at the door, and Perry almost had a heart attack. Someone was turning the lock with a key.

  The door swung open and nine-year-old Keshana walked in. She stopped cold upon seeing her mother, naked, kneeling next to Tyrone, also naked, clutching his chest, face deformed in pain, sweat pouring down his entire body.

  “What are you doing here?” Perry screamed.

  “Brenda’s mother told me to go home…I tried to call and no one--”

  “Help me, Keshana!” Tyrone pleaded, reaching a hand out to her. “Call somebody! Help me!”

  “Get out of here!” Perry shouted. “Go to your room and close the door!”

  Keshana hesitated, staring at Tyrone.

  “I’m dying, Keshana! Your mother poisoned me! Call for help! Please!…Call for help! Don’t let me die…please!”

  Keshana met her mother’s eyes. “Mommie, do you want me to call someone?”

  “I want,” Perry said through clenched teeth, “you to go to your room and close the damn door!” Keshana just stood there staring at Tyrone. “Did you hear me?”

  Keshana moved toward the hallway, though not quickly enough to her mother’s satisfaction. Perry threw a glass… Keshana ducked and disappeared before it shattered against the wall.

  Perry slapped her forehead. “Shit!” That little bitch! She might take
this wrong way…might go to school and blab her mouth.

  “Tyrone, sugar, sweetie pie, would you excuse me a minute? I need to talk to my daughter.” Before she left, she donned the robe and made sure the front door was locked.

  Keshana was going into the bedroom closet when Perry entered the bedroom.

  “Get out of there!”

  Keshana stepped out, her head down, sandy gold hair covering her face.

  “You don’t hide from your mother. I’m not upset with you. Bold girls don’t hide in closets.” Perry tapped her sharply under the chin. “Bold girls hold their heads up!”

  “I wasn’t hiding, Mommie.”

  “Yeah. We need to talk about what you saw. What you think you saw wasn’t what was going on. What really was happening: Tyrone and I were playing doctor. You’re familiar with the game, aren’t you?”

  Keshana shrugged.

  “It’s a game where two people pretend they’re in a hospital. You see, someone has to play the patient, what Tyrone was doing when you barged in. He’s not really hurt. He’s just play-acting, you understand?”

  “Yes, Mommie.”

  “Here’s the important part. No one--and I do mean no one!--should know what goes on in this apartment! Do you understand? If someone--I don’t care who!--teacher, friend, policeman--asks you what happened here, you tell them you haven’t seen nothing and you don’t know nothing. Do you understand?”

  Keshana nodded.

  “Good. Let me hear you say it.”

  “I haven’t seen nothing and I don’t know nothing.”

  “Good, good! Now stay in here until I come get you. Maybe later we’ll go see a movie or something.”

  Later lasted ten hours; after paramedics had worn a path in the living room carpet. And later didn’t culminate in a movie or anything else.

  Perry stepped out of the tub, water dripping on the diamond-white marble floor, and strolled over to the window and pulled back the blue China silk curtains.

  She could see the new Target store, almost a mile away. Opposite that, a Wal-Mart Super Store. Farther away a glimpse of the green sign indicating Interstate 440. Less than a block away, several teenage boys were playing touch football in the middle of the street.