How to Knock a Bravebird from Her Perch : The First Novel in the Morrow Girls Series (9780985751616)

by Bryant Simmons, D.

  “To the Friday night classes? Yes. Here’s one for Tuesday nights. Just sign on the...the box numbered five. You can sign your new husband up as well.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought I explained this to you.” She sighed looking over my head at the lady who was passing by to get to the desk next to us.

  “No, I mean why’s Ricky going? Wh-What you promise him?”

  “I didn’t promise him anything. The court requires that we at least try to reunite children with their natural parents. If he gets some help for his anger issues and takes some parenting courses...”

  “You what? You’ll give them to Ricky?”

  “Mrs. Jenkins. Please.”

  “You can’t do that! What in the world is wrong with you? You stupid?”

  “Mrs. Jenkins! That is enough! Contrary to what you may think I don’t spend my days thinking about how to make you miserable. I am simply following the rules. And despite your many outbursts and what I personally consider to be erratic and unstable behavior, I doubt that your ex-husband would be a better choice. But I am obligated by law to work toward a resolution that is in the best interests of the children. And according to the law, returning them to their natural parents is the goal. Now, if you would like to be taken seriously I suggest you and your new husband be on time to each one of the classes.”

  “You can’t give them to Ricky. You can’t...”

  “Right now we are only working on visitation. If that goes well...then we’ll see...perhaps the two of you can learn to work together to parent your children.”

  In the fourteen years I’d known Ricky Morrow, he hadn’t learned a thing other than how to throw a better punch. And I knew what it was like to parent with Ricky. Knew about all the things he didn’t think were important, how hard it was for him to just be nice to folks. Knew all the signs that he was pissed off about something. Ain’t matter if you’d done it or not, if you were there...he was coming for you. I didn’t even wonder why he was the way he was or spend any time blaming myself for it, but I couldn’t pretend like I ain’t know what I knew.

  LOUIS WAS WAITING FOR me on the porch when I got back home. We’d enjoyed him so much the last time he visited that he decided to spend Christmas with me and Heziah. It was good to see him, even though I was sure his mama probably missed him something terrible. He met me at the gate, taking each step with me real slow like the snow wasn’t trustworthy.

  “I’m okay.”

  But he just nodded, his cold fingers wrapped nice and tight around mine. Had that way just like his daddy where he could see what I needed despite what I was saying. Louis explained that Heziah had called and said for us not to wait up. So, it would be just me and my stepson for supper. Ain’t stop us from having what I call a real supper—fried chicken, yams, collards, and potato salad. Wasn’t sure what Louis was used to but figured it was the least I could do.

  Everything was so quiet. Too quiet. My house already felt like it was two sizes too big and it just got bigger when we sat down to eat. Felt like I needed to apologize for it because Louis ain’t know what it was supposed to be like. He ain’t know about when it used to be filled with music and laughter. Felt like I’d invited him in and ain’t give him the best impression.

  “You think the girls’ll join us for Christmas Day? I’d sure like to meet them.”

  We hadn’t told the girls anything really about Louis or Hazel but I just nodded and said, “They wanna meet you too. But I don’t know if it’ll happen any time soon. The social worker, she made it sound like they were busy.”

  “Too busy for family?”

  Wasn’t nothing to say to that so I just concentrated on my plate. They were still my girls, just not so much in person. More so in my head. In my head, they’d always be my girls. With their messy braids and scraped knees and the sweetness they could’ve only got from me. Didn’t matter where they were in the world, my girls had my whole heart.

  Snow was coming down real good about then. Wind went from whistling to howling up against the windows and doors.

  “Mama Bell, this is the best fried chicken I ever had.” Louis ain’t have his daddy’s smile so I figured it came from his mama. Was big and wide, showing all his slightly crooked teeth.

  “You ain’t gotta call me that. You can call me Belinda if you want. Or Pecan. Don’t nobody call me Pecan no more.”

  “You don’t like Mama Bell?” His smile up and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

  “No—I just mean...I ain’t exactly old enough to be your mama so...”

  “If you don’t want me to...I can call you whatever you want.”

  I watched as he stabbed his fork into a piece of yam and chewed it without looking up. The quiet had come back. Things were going so well then I had to go and mess them up. Make him feel like he wasn’t mine. I wanted to take it back, was thinking it through when this hardness started raging up against the front door. That right there should’ve told me who it was. Only one person would’ve shown up and started banging on my door like that.

  “You expecting someone?” Louis looked confused more than anything. And he got to his feet before I could get the words out fully. “I’ll get it,” he rose from his chair.

  “No...” Poor Pecan raised her damn head, muffling up my words. Had to get to my own feet before I could really get it out. “LOUIS! Don’t.”

  “Why?” He looked back at me then at the door. He’d made it all the way to the hall. Then we both heard it. The quiet.

  “See. They’re gone. Just...just come sit back down. Finish your supper.” But Louis was curious. He walked down the hall anyway. And I held my breath as the front door creaked open, snow flurries and that cold Chicago wind came blowing in. Maybe a second passed but it felt like forever before he closed the door again. Couldn’t exhale until I heard him throw the lock. The brand new one we got just so I ain’t have to worry that Ricky still had his key.

  “Hmm.” Louis strolled down the hall, still confused. “Guess it wasn’t important. You okay?”

  I nodded, noticing for the first time how my fingers had latched on to the corner of the wall.

  Ricky’s bouquets had started coming more frequent and the last few came with phone calls. He said he was checking on me. Wanting to know if I’d made up my mind yet. Asking me how his baby was doing. And reminding me that his love for me wasn’t gonna stop. Not ever.

  Heziah wanted to call the cops again but they weren’t much help the first time. I wasn’t surprised. Ricky’s fans were everywhere, like a cult of mindless followers. Watching me and doing him favors. But even Ricky wasn’t gonna be a match for my pistol.

  I was just about ready to convince myself of that when the noises started at the kitchen door. Louis took off in flash. The phone was in the kitchen. All my knives were in the kitchen.

  “Where she at?”

  Louis rattled off something that was more him just trying to be polite than anything but I could tell that Ricky had just brushed right past him. Nervous as all get-out, Louis swallowed hard and tried again. Telling Ricky that it was late and maybe he could come back tomorrow when we weren’t eating supper. Would’ve worked too if Ricky was anybody else. He ain’t care about manners or nothing like that. All Ricky cared about was his pride.

  “What you doing Pecan? Hmm?” Off came his gloves and he stuffed them into his coat pockets. “I’m done waiting. You coming back to me or not?”

  Every one of my nightmares started with Ricky standing over me as I slept. So, I’d left my pistol in my dresser. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

  “This thing done gone on long enough. We getting back together before my boy get here. Hear me? Pecan, I’m talking to you.”

  Louis eyes grew wide and he looked at me like he’d never laid eyes on me before.

  “It ain’t like that,” I tried to explain.

  “Why you talking to him? I’m the one you need to be worried about.”

  The food was cold by then but I went back to
my plate and sat down anyway, like I could eat with him standing over me.

  “You my wife.”

  “I ain’t. And I never will be again.”

  “STOP SAYING THAT!”

  Air filled my lungs as I raised my chin an inch or two. Me looking him in the eye wasn’t how things usually went between us.

  “Where is he? He here? Or he still at that little carpet shop?”

  Louis didn’t take too kindly to that and said, “Look man, you gotta go.”

  “Who the fuck is this? Who you is?”

  Ricky’s focus was a deadly thing especially when you were unfamiliar with it. Physically, Louis was better equipped to handle it than me but at the time I didn’t see it like that.

  “Leave him be.” I was up and between them faster than even I thought possible. “He ain’t got nothing to do with this. It’s between me and you. Not him.”

  But Ricky zoomed in on Louis anyway, squinting his eyes and flexing his fists. My affection for my stepson didn’t help his cause.

  “Ricky, we over. I’m married to a good man. Better than you ever was.”

  “That right?” His mouth twisted up real nasty. “A better man living up in somebody else’s house? Huh? Fucking somebody else’s wife! A thief is what he is!”

  “We not married no more!”

  Louis stepped to the side behind me but I moved right with him, determined to keep the peace between him and Ricky.

  “Yeah? And what you doing with this young-un right here? Mr. Better Man know about him? You fucking him too? Huh?”

  “He’s my son!” Soon as it was out my mouth I knew I could’ve said it better. Louis was so busy looking at me with that fuzzy sorta happiness in his eyes that he ain’t even see it coming. Ricky’s stare. My regular old man was back and he stared good and hard at Louis then at me. I’d never put too much thought into whether Louis looked at all like me. Not until right then. “I mean—”

  “N’all I heard you. He’s your boy.”

  “Ricky—”

  His hands, still cold from outside, whipped outta his pockets before I could move an inch and sent me flying towards the dining table. Hit my head on the edge and slumped to the floor. But for once I wasn’t getting the worst of it. Wasn’t even the real target. Heziah’s pride and joy was in the kind of danger you couldn’t learn about in college.

  “STOP! RICKY STOP!”

  But Ricky wasn’t done. Louis feet came flying towards my head and missed me by an inch. I crawled underneath the table, flinching with every blow that shook the table above my head.

  Trembling I crawled out. I had only been to a few of Ricky’s fights but even they ain’t get to be that bad. He had Louis by his collar, pulling him forward just so he could slam his head into the table. Watching it, I could feel something inside me breaking. Thought it was my heart. Twisting and burning deep up inside me. Burned so bad I couldn’t walk straight as it came flushing up outta me. Grabbed the wall just to find my way to the kitchen. The skillet was just where I’d left it. Chicken bits floating in the grease. Same skillet Clara’d used over and over to get Ricky under control. Now it was my turn. Got a few steps, holding it with both hands and letting the grease drip down to my feet. Then the burning turned to something else. Something I knew all about. Pain. The kind that came with each one of my girls. But I told myself it ain’t matter. Birthing pain wasn’t about to stop me. Couldn’t let it go on. It had to stop. It’d gone on long enough. Ricky ruining everybody around him. Everybody I loved.

  By the time I’d made it back to the dining room a pool of dark red blood oozed across my table and long legs swung aimlessly over the edge.

  Ricky was all outta breath, that wild look still in his eye. He’d had plenty but it wasn’t enough. There was still a good amount of fight left in him. His chest heaved up and down, his nostrils flaring out as he asked me one last time.

  “What’s it gonna be, Pecan?”

  “No.”

  “WHY YOU MAKING ME DO THIS? THIS WHAT YOU WANT? HUH?”

  Fourteen years of walking on eggshells, dodging punches, and surviving moodswings taught me how to protect myself from a raging maniac. He ran at me with evil in his eyes but before he could make contact, my skillet met with his forehead. Ricky’s eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped to the floor. And I fell to my knees over him bringing the skilled down again.

  “I told you. No.”

  I WAS LEANING OVER him, studying that empty look in his eyes when I heard Heziah’s voice.

  “Belinda, call an ambulance.”

  He was still wrapped up in his coat, hat was still on his head. He ain’t have time to take anything off. He stumbled over Ricky’s body and went straight for the massacre on my dining table.

  “I’m so-so-so sorry I—”

  “CALL AN AMBULANCE!”

  The skillet clanged to the floor and I took off back to the kitchen. Hoping and praying somebody would show up before it was too late.

  Criminal

  "HOW’S HE DOING, DOCTOR?”

  I’d never seen Heziah so upset. Ain’t matter what answers folks gave him he always had more questions. Scratching his arms one minute and folded over at the waist the next. He sat next to me, holding his head in his hands. Wouldn’t let me touch him. Or maybe it was me that wouldn’t let me touch him. I just couldn’t help feeling like it was my fault. They never would’ve even met Ricky if I wasn’t in their lives.

  “Mrs. Jenkins? Would you like me to take a look at your lip?” Was kind of the nurse to ask but I’d forgotten all about it.

  Heziah jerked right up, studying me like he hadn’t known I was there. “What happened to your lip? Did he do that?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Let her look at you.”

  “But I’m okay. I wanna stay here with you.”

  “No. Go. Go with her.”

  Wasn’t no kind of goodbye. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. So I went. Let the nurses fuss all over me. Ask me endless questions. about what had happened and about the babies. If I felt them moving around. If I felt my water break. I told them I ain’t feel nothing. Wasn’t specific to my womb, though. Just in general. Was like my soul was just plain numb from it all. Ain’t even care that they’d decided to hook me up to some machines. I was lucky to have found Heziah in the first place. And it was damn near a miracle that he came back to me in the second. But now everything was going to be different. Ricky’d found a way to ruin everything good in my life.

  “Ooo, looks like somebody’s in labor.” This big cheesy grin spread across her face and she pointed to the machine. “Contractions?”

  “Can you get my husband?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

  A million things went through my head, waiting for Heziah. Things I hadn’t said or hadn’t said enough. To him. To my girls. Had a fresh start with the twins and I wanted to get things right. Do it right. Was a difference between doing it right and doing the best I could. But all that vanished soon as I saw Heziah’s face. He was at my side, holding my hand just like he said he would.

  “It ain’t time yet.”

  “But the nurse said—”

  I shook my head but couldn’t help but smile a little. “How’s Louis doing?”

  “He’s okay. Doctors say he’s got a concussion and a broken nose. He’s resting.”

  “You sure?”

  “That’s what they said, Belinda. Now you just concentrate on this.”

  “I’m just lying here. Ain’t much to concentrate on.”

  The nurse breezed back into the room, saying she wanted to check some things and Heziah’s back straightened with the quickness as she dropped down between my legs. I ain’t think it was possible but I loved him that much more. Was stupid of me to think he’d stop loving me just because of Ricky. He squeezed my hand, not paying my face no mind. Too curious and worried probably.

  “Heziah?”

  “Yeah. Just...just stay calm. It’s okay.”

&n
bsp; “I need some things from the house.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Can you go get them?”

  “Now? You’re having the babies.”

  “Nope. Not yet.” With a finishing pop, the nurse’s blue plastic gloves rolled off her hands and into the trash. “Two centimeters. It could be a while.”

  “See.” He ain’t want to. I could see it all over him but I really did need some things. “Please. I need my uhh...my gown. Toothpaste. And uhh...”

  “A change of clothes. She’ll need that for when you all leave the hospital.”

  The nurse was trying real hard to be helpful. I just ain’t need no help. I knew what I was doing. All that stuff I figured Heziah could’ve thought of on his own. The thing I really needed. What I really wanted was something he ain’t know I had.

  “Is that all Belinda?”

  “Well um...there’s this book. It has leather around the outside. Brown leather. Not fancy or anything. Just something I picked up at the market. Could you bring it to me? It’s under my side of the mattress.” He nodded.

  Heziah wasn’t gone more than thirty minutes before they put me in my own room. Not long after that an unfamiliar face in a blue suit found his way around to my bedside. Introduced himself as A.D.A somebody. He used big words and came flanked by two police officers, wanting to know all about Ricky. About what had really happened. What had started the fight? What did Louis say? What did he do? I told him Louis ain’t do a damn thing. Having Ricky flip out didn’t take any coaxing on anybody’s part. But the nice blue suit just nodded and kept going with his questions. Asking if maybe I was holding a grudge or something against Ricky. Grudge wasn’t what I would’ve called my feelings toward Ricky, my lying cheating husband that beat me every day of my life. N’all grudge wasn’t the word.

  “Not my fault the way he is.”

  “Was. Ma’am.” The serious man and his cold eyes moved closer to my bed. “He was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital. The D.A. hasn’t decided whether to press charges against you or not.”

  “Press charges?” Heziah dropped a small bag at the door and marched into the room ready to do battle on my behalf. “For what? My wife didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one that—”