The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written

by H. M. Mann

  Angel rolled her eyes. “And that’s when you found the mouse and threw it—”

  “No,” Johnny gently interrupted. “I found a stick and threw it behind me as DeShawn made his leap. I climbed one last time over that fence …” And now it’s time for the ridiculously true ending. “And that’s when my foster mother came screaming out of her house carrying a broom.”

  “To chase DeShawn away from you,” Angel said with a sigh.

  “No,” Johnny said, “to swat at a mouse she had been chasing through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. She chased that mouse right up to the fence, the mouse jumped through, and DeShawn had a nice furry mouse to snack on instead of me.” The ridiculous end.

  None of the three ladies in the kitchen said a word for a full minute.

  “That mouse didn’t really save your life,” Angel said.

  Johnny shrugged. “Who knows what might have happened to me if that mouse hadn’t come scooting through the kitchen.”

  Angel pushed back from the table. “I have to go get ready for school.” She turned to Johnny. “Nice story.”

  After Angel left the kitchen, Gloria smiled. “That was the most ridiculous—”

  “It was all true,” Marion interrupted. “Little Johnny, Carol Springer’s foster son. What does that make you, thirty?”

  Johnny nodded.

  I was only one when he was at Forest Park. Gloria squinted at Marion. “Mama, Carol Springer was black.”

  “Since she was born, I expect,” Marion said.

  Gloria squinted at Johnny. “You were raised by a black woman?”

  “And her husband, Reverend Springer,” Johnny said, “but only for about six months. I was adopted after that. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday took me out to their farm in Blue Ridge. I had to ride a bus for an hour each way every day to school. I missed this neighborhood. There was always so much to do. It hasn’t seemed to have changed much.”

  Marion stood. “Carol told me once about a time you sang in church.”

  “Um, yeah, that was … memorable,” Johnny said, looking away.

  “You sang in Reverend Springer’s church?” Gloria asked.

  “Well …” Johnny shook his head. “All I had to do was sing the chorus to ‘Love Lifted Me.’”

  Marion burst out laughing. “Now I remember! I should have sent this story to Reader’s Digest. I still might.”

  “Something went wrong?” Gloria asked.

  Johnny cleared his throat and sang, “Love Lipton tea, love Lipton tea, when nothing else could help, love Lipton tea.”

  “No,” Gloria said.

  Johnny nodded. “What made it even funnier is that I thought those were the actual words.”

  Marion cleared the plates. “They should have handed you a hymnal.”

  “I couldn’t read very well yet,” Johnny said.

  Gloria scooted her chair closer to the table so she could put her feet on Johnny’s thighs. “So, old neighbor, what do you think of my little Angel?”

  “She’s quite … literal, isn’t she?” Johnny asked.

  “What do you mean?” Gloria asked.

  Why are Gloria’s eyes so close together all of a sudden? “She’s, um, analytical. Scientific. I’ll bet she gets straight A’s in math and science.”

  “She’s only in kindergarten,” Gloria said. “And being analytical isn’t bad, right?”

  He’s in trouble if he tells the truth, Marion thought while rinsing the plates.

  I can’t tell her what I really think. I can’t tell Gloria that Angel’s imagination is nearly nonexistent. “Of course it isn’t bad. I’ve never met a child who is all about the facts. She’ll make a great doctor or lawyer.”

  “She can be whatever she wants to be,” Gloria said. “Just because she tried to poke holes in your story …” She’s just like me.

  “She could be an engineer, or a general, or the president,” Johnny said. “She’s very grown up for a child.”

  Time to bust out the potential boyfriend, Marion thought. “So what you’re really saying is that Angel doesn’t act like a child.”

  “Right.” Johnny’s hands started to sweat. Tag-teamed in the kitchen. “She’s already a young lady.”

  “She’s still a child, Johnny,” Gloria said. “She’s only five.”

  “Goin’ on twenty-five,” Marion said. “Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

  Gloria stared holes in Johnny’s head. “Well?”

  “Well …” Johnny stared at Marion. Thank you so much, Miss Marion. “There’s, um, there’s something missing in Angel.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my child,” Gloria said, dropping her feet to the floor.

  “I didn’t say there was,” Johnny said.

  “You implied it,” Gloria said.

  “I’ll just do these dishes while you two talk about Angel, okay?” Marion asked.

  “What, is she supposed to be fidgety, giggly, and goofy?” Gloria asked.

  Why did I say anything? Johnny thought. My head hurts. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt her a bit to be all of those things. It’s the joy of being a kid, the joy of not having a care in the world, the joy of making strange noises and doing funky dances.”

  Amen, Johnny, Marion thought. Preach!

  Gloria waved an index finger at Johnny. “Look. I have raised a calm, organized, respectful child who—”

  “She was kind of rude to Johnny this morning,” Marion interrupted.

  Gloria glowered at Marion.

  “I’ll just, I’ll just tend to these dishes,” Marion said.

  “Angel can take care of herself,” Gloria said. “She is light years ahead of her snot-nosed classmates who can’t sit still, who say stupid things, and who make obscene noises for no reason at all.”

  I have touched a nerve I will never touch again. “I never said it was wrong, Gloria,” Johnny said. “I just find it kind of odd—”

  “Oh, and now she’s odd,” Gloria interrupted.

  I wish I had a thesaurus. “I didn’t say she was odd,” Johnny said.

  “He’s right,” Marion said. “He didn’t say she was odd. He kind of said that the situation was odd.”

  “Mama, go back to your dishes.” She focused on Johnny’s eyes. “Now what exactly do you find odd about my child?”

  I wish we were arguing about toilet paper. I know I could win or at least hold my own in that argument. “Like me, Angel doesn’t laugh out loud. You laugh out loud, but she doesn’t. Angel hardly smiles. I told a ridiculous story, and all she did was roll her eyes and sigh.”

  Gloria shook her head. “Angel laughs all the time.”

  “When you’re not here,” Marion said. “But only a little, sad to say.”

  “Mama,” Gloria said, “you ain’t in this.”

  Marion dried her hands on a towel. “I’m not? I’m here when you aren’t here.” She sat in Angel’s seat. “Johnny, trust me. Angel can be a giggly, goofy thing, especially around me, and if her mama weren’t sitting there this morning—”

  “That’s not true and you know it,” Gloria interrupted. “And I’ll prove it to you. Angel, get down here!”

  “What are you going to do, Gloria,” Marion said, “try to make her laugh?”

  “You’ll see,” Gloria said.

  Angel appeared in the doorway. She was dressed neatly in creased jeans and a bright pink coat, book bag ready, her hair perfect, her eyeglasses spotless. “Yes, Mama?”

  Gloria took one of Angel’s hands. “Remember last year when you ate that yellow crayon. Wasn’t that funny?”

  Marion blinked. “She did what?”

  “I wanted to see if it would stay yellow when it came out,” Angel said.

  And who said science wasn’t fun! Johnny smiled. “Did it?”

  Angel shook her head.

  Johnny nodded. “And what did you learn from your interesting experiment?”

  Angel sighed. “Eating crayons is dumb.”

  “Wasn’t that funny?” Gloria asked.
>
  No one laughed.

  Well, I thought it was funny, Gloria thought. “Oh, remember when we went to the zoo and you saw the prairie dogs? What did you say to Mama?”

  Angel’s eyes dropped. “I asked why we had to pay to see the rats.”

  Gloria laughed.

  No one else laughed.

  “Pay to see the rats!” Gloria shouted. “Hilarious!”

  “Mama,” Angel said, “I should be outside.”

  Gloria sighed. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  After the front door shut, Johnny turned to Marion and whispered, “How long has Angel been like this?”

  Marion poured two cups of coffee, giving a cup to Johnny. “She’s always been like this. Cut ‘n’ dried, black and white, questioning every little thing. The child only occasionally giggles and carries on, but it’s only when it’s just me and her. Angel is not an ordinary child at all. She is brilliant with a capital B, but she has no joy in her at all.” She sat across from Johnny. “When Gloria’s around, Angel literally becomes Gloria.”

  “Which isn’t so bad,” Johnny said. “I mean, I like Gloria the way she is. I’m just saying that a little girl should be … should be …”

  “She should be full of joy, full of happiness, full of silliness.”

  Johnny nodded. “She should be full of smiles that leak out all over the place.”

  Marion patted Johnny’s hand. “Have you seen her entire smile? She’ll need braces for sure. Teeth going every which way.”

  “But a smile isn’t only in the teeth,” Johnny said. “It’s in the cheeks, the eyes. Angel’s eyes should dance, they should boogie, get down, cut a rug, do the Hustle.”

  “And you’re only a pizza delivery driver?” Marion asked.

  “I took some psychology courses at Tech.”

  “Hmm.” And yet he delivers pizzas now. Either he didn’t graduate, or he majored in something the world doesn’t need. Marion took a sip. “How are we going to turn Angel into a little girl again?”

  Johnny held his cup with both hands. “I’ve never had children, so I wouldn’t know.”

  “I don’t know,” Marion said. “You sure had her attention this morning. Maybe you could, oh, tell her a bedtime story or two. Of course, that would require you to be here at bedtime to tell these stories. You get my drift?”

  Things sure move fast in this house. “I, um, I work nights, and Gloria and I, we’ve … we’re just getting started. I can’t just say, ‘Hey Gloria, let me come tell Angel a bedtime story.’”

  “I doubt she’d object,” Marion said. “Though today she might.”

  “You think she’s mad at me?” Johnny asked.

  “Oh, I know she’s mad, probably at the both of us,” Marion said. “You’re the first person besides me to question her parenting skills. Against my many objections, Gloria has raised that child to be totally independent. Angel isn’t that giggling baby anymore, and it makes me sad.”

  The front door opened and shut. Gloria cruised into the kitchen, poured herself a large mug of coffee, and stood by the sink.

  “So, Johnny,” Gloria said, “you have any more compliments for my child?”

  Johnny stood, hands in pockets, and edged toward Gloria. “Your eyes get darker when you’re angry. That’s so cool. Oh, and they get smaller. Little cute chocolate chip dots.”

  That doesn’t work with me, Gloria thought. Not where my child is concerned. “Don’t try to—”

  “And you have the sweetest pout,” Johnny interrupted, inching his hip into hers.

  “Don’t mind me,” Marion said. “I’m just an old lady with a bad ticker watching you two.”

  Johnny rubbed Gloria’s lower back.

  He doesn’t play fair, Gloria thought.

  “It’s the eyebrows that really make your pout work,” Johnny continued. “They point down to your lips, kind of draw your eyes down …” He rubbed her shoulder. “Your daughter is as amazing as you are, Gloria, and no matter what I say, she’ll still be amazing. I just want you to know that one day I will make her laugh so loudly that she’ll break every window in a three-block radius.” He put his lips near her ear. “And I plan to do this as often as I can for as long as I can.” He pushed gently on her left wrist until she set the coffee mug on the counter. He stroked the little rubber band with his finger. “After all, we’re, um, rubber-banded.”

  Gloria tried not to smile. “I’ve never been rubber-banded before.”

  “Neither have I,” Johnny said. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s so small. If my tips are good tonight, I can get you a wider rubber band at OfficeMax.”

  Gloria held out her hand as if admiring a diamond ring. “I like the way how it, um, doesn’t shine.”

  “I only have three words for you two,” Marion said. “Pit, I, full.”

  Johnny turned Gloria to him, pulling her hips into his. “As long as we’re together being pitiful, that’s not so bad, right?”

  Marion stood. “Y’all want me to leave? I can go for a walk.”

  “Sure, Mama,” Gloria said. “It’s a nice day for a walk.”

  Marion slammed a chair into the table. “I was kidding, Gloria. I’m seventy-three years old. I do not go on walks on cold November days.”

  “Um, Johnny,” Gloria said, “I’m really tired, so ...” And stank. And cranky. And nervous.

  “I can wait,” Johnny said.

  “For what?” Marion demanded.

  “Oh, I think … a backrub … or two,” Johnny whispered.

  “I can hear you, Johnny,” Marion said. “Just because you cooked in my kitchen does not mean you can cook in my kitchen.”

  “On a couch,” Johnny whispered even more softly. “Or a loveseat. I think I saw one in the other room.”

  He remembers my idea, Gloria thought. “Wherever the spirit moves us.”

  Marion looked at the ceiling. “Nathan, these two are freaks.”

  “Or here,” Johnny whispered. “We’d have to take out the chairs first, though.”

  “Stop it, Johnny,” Marion said. “Never in my seventy years have I heard anything so, so … perverse.”

  “You’re seventy-three, Mama.”

  Marion shooed them from in front of the sink and into the hallway. “All this talk is making me feel younger. I may go down to the Post this evening and find me a man.”

  “Don’t forget your ID,” Johnny said.

  Marion blinked.

  “So you can get carded for looking so young,” Johnny added.

  Marion squeezed Johnny’s shoulder. “Gloria, do not let this man go. He’s good for my self-esteem. You staying all day or what?”

  Johnny looked into Gloria’s eyes. “I’m going to … go home.” Wow. My heart hurt to say that. “Friday nights are chaotic, so I’ll need lots of rest. Are you working tonight?”

  “Not till Sunday night,” Gloria said.

  Johnny hugged Gloria tightly, putting his lips on her right earlobe. “Order a pizza, and I’ll give you a discount.”

  Gloria put her lips on Johnny’s right earlobe. “I can’t wait to give you your tip.”

  Marion opened the closet and took out Johnny’s coat. “And I want you two to stop all this lusting in my house.” She handed Johnny his coat. “Tonight, I want you to deliver two large cheese pizzas to us at nine o’clock sharp.” Marion opened the front door and pushed Johnny outside. “Extra sauce on both, or we ain’t paying.”

  Gloria stepped outside and shut the door behind her. She kissed Johnny quickly. “Get some rest.”

  “You, too.”

  “I wish I was working tonight,” Gloria said with a pout.

  Johnny pulled her to him. “I can come by after closing.”

  Do I want him to come by? Of course I do. “We’ll have to, um, talk quietly.”

  “As long as we can snuggle on the couch, maybe exchange some backrubs …”

  “You liked my scene, huh?”

  Johnny nodded.

  “But it’s my grandma�
��s loveseat, and it creaks even when no one’s sitting on it.”

  “We might just fall asleep together, you know.”

  Which would be a first for me. “I’d like that.”

  Johnny kissed her chin. “I like getting to know you gradually. Like just now, I kissed your chin. I’ve already kissed each ear, the left side of your neck, your lips, and your cheeks. Later, I may explore new territory.” Johnny smiled. “I’ll bring Chapstick.”

  Gloria laughed. “Just bring yourself, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The front door slammed open. “Oh, for God’s sakes, leave already, Johnny,” Marion said. “I’m dying to talk about you behind your back.”

  Johnny kissed Gloria’s hand. “That’s one place I won’t have to go tonight.”

  “Bye.”

  Gloria watched him go.

  “He’ll be back,” Marion said.

  “I know.”

  “Kind of nice to know a man is going to stick around, huh Gloria?”

  “Yeah.”

  Inside on the loveseat, Gloria decided that it would be an exceptionally tight squeeze later tonight for giving backrubs. Unless we use yoga position number thirty-four—

  “Okay,” Marion said. “Let’s talk about your man.”

  “I was having some deep thoughts just now, Mama, and you interrupted them.”

  “Right. Deep.” Marion rolled her eyes. “Want to know what I think of Johnny now?”

  Not really. I want to think about his big hands rubbing my shoulders.

  “Gloria, stop drooling and listen to me.”

  Gloria turned to Marion. “I’m listening.”

  “Johnny is weird, goofy, nasty, and pushy.”

  Gloria’s heart sank. “What?”

  Marion smiled. “And, therefore … he’s perfect for you. When are you and Angel moving out?”

  She can’t be serious. “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “You’ll ever move out? Child, I’m a single woman, and I would like to act like a single woman before I die. I’d like to be alone with a man again, too. You aren’t waiting on me to die, are you?”

  “No, Mama. Don’t say that!”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking. Y’all can have the house as long as you put me up in a fancy condominium first, and it can’t be one of those condos for the old and dried up. It has to be a swinging place.” Marion giggled. “I’ve just turned sixty-eight, Gloria, and I want to enjoy myself.”