by E. N. Joy
“No, dear, never expect the worst,” he said to his daughter as he walked over to her and rubbed her cheek, causing her to smile. “You should never expect the worst in life . . . just be prepared for it.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Sis, do you know starting this pound cake business is the best thing I could have ever done?” Doreen said as she stood in her kitchen boxing pound cake after pound cake. Sarina, her younger sister by three years, stood assisting her. The two had been at it since five o’clock that morning. Doreen’s father had dropped Sarina off on his and her mother’s way to a couple’s retreat. This single order of a dozen pound cakes was the largest Doreen had had yet. Charging five dollars per cake and with Christmas right around the corner, she was saving to get Willie a watch. That way, maybe he’d look down at it, notice the time, and make it home at a decent hour.
“Is it now?” Sarina asked Doreen.
“Yeah, well, that and marrying Willie.”
“Is that all?” Sarina tapped her foot.
Doreen chuckled, looked down at her slightly protruding tummy, and added, “Oh yeah, and get pregnant with ol’ Willie Junior here.”
“Child, you ain’t nothing but about eight weeks pregnant. How you know it’s a boy?”
“’Cause I’ve been sick as a dog. Only those belonging to the male species can make me this sick,” Doreen joked as she placed a pound cake inside a box and sealed it in securely.
Sarina wasn’t chuckling. “How do you do it, Sis? How do you stay married to an unbeliever?”
Doreen took immediate offense. “Who says my Willie is an unbeliever? Is it them people at the church? Because they got a lot of nerves. Just last week Willie told me how he saw Deacon and Mrs. Smitherson leaving the juke joint hand in hand like they’d had the time of their lives . . . or were about to anyway.”
“And what’s so wrong with that? I mean, sure, Deacon Smitherson and his wife probably had no business up in some drinking establishment, but at least they were in there together. At least they’re not just so . . .” Sarina searched for words. “. . . different; different as night and day like you and Willie are.”
Doreen poked out her lips. “I guess that would have been more like right if it was Deacon Smitherson and his wife Mrs. Smitherson, but it wasn’t. It was Deacon Milton with Mrs. Smitherson.”
“The devil is a liar!” Sarina spat. She’d been drizzling chocolate icing down a yellow pound cake when she yielded.
“You calling my Willie the devil or something? Because he’s the one who told me.”
“Oh, by no means would I ever call your Willie a lying devil. Why, he’s the most honest man this side of Kentucky,” Sarina said sarcastically with a playful flutter of her eyelashes.
“Uh-huh.” Doreen dipped her finger into the icing and put some on her little sister’s nose. “You keep it up and I’ma turn you over my knee and skin you clean.”
“You can’t even keep your husband in line. How you gon’ try to keep me in line?” Sarina chuckled, but it was Doreen who didn’t chuckle this time.
Doreen sighed, wiped her forehead with her sleeve, then went and sat down. Sarina noticed her older sister’s sudden change in demeanor.
“I’m sorry, Sis. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sarina apologized.
“Oh no, you’re all right. Just getting a little tired and feeling somewhat ill from this baby is all,” Doreen lied. And she wasn’t a good liar as Sarina could see right through her and to the truth.
“You tired of people and all what they got to say about Willie, huh?” Sarina sat down next to Doreen at the kitchen table.
“I know I shouldn’t let what folks say get to me, and I know it shouldn’t mean much, but it does, Sarina. It does, and it hurts sometimes too. Never knew words could cut so deep. It’s like from the beginning of Willie’s and my relationship, folks been saying we ain’t gon’ make it. Now I feel like I have to prove them wrong, like I’ve been challenged, and no matter what, I have to hang in there. Every couple has their ups and downs. But all folks see when it comes to Willie and me is our downs. So they keep right on talking negative things.”
“So what are you going to do about it then?”
“What can I do? Folks talked about Jesus, and He was a man without fault. So do you think they’re going to give Willie a break?”
“Tell me this, Sis, why did you marry Willie?”
Doreen shot Sarina an indignant look. “What do you mean why did I marry him? Because I loved him, of course,” Doreen flat-out said, then stood up and went back to tending to the cakes.
“So you never felt like maybe you got tricked into this whole relationship with him?”
“Tricked how? Girl, what in the world are you talking about?”
Sarina stood and walked over to Doreen and watched her finish icing the cake that she had started. “I’m talking about the way Willie came to church just long enough to court you and get you to say ‘I do.’ You never thought just once that was a trick of the enemy? And that you fell for it? Hook, line, and Willie?”
Doreen paused but spoke no words. It was clear by the way she looked at Sarina, then turned her attention back to the cake, that she’d had those same thoughts a time or two.
“Then why are you staying in this marriage?” Sarina asked with urgency. “Why do you want to live like this? You just don’t seem like the same sister I grew up with back at Mama and Daddy’s house. You don’t seem to have that same joy and energy. I’m not the only one who notices it either. We think it’s because you spend all your energy chasing Willie around town and—”
“We? Who is ‘we’?” Doreen was very defensive and angry. “So you just like the rest of ’em? My own flesh and blood running around town talking about me too? Well, you and all them other folks can go to—” The buzzing of the timer signaling that the last cake was ready drowned out the curse word that had just flown from Doreen’s tongue.
“Guess you been hanging around old Willie so long that you’re starting to even talk like him,” Sarina said as she turned off the timer, put on oven mitts, and removed the cake from the oven. She set it on the cooling rack, and then continued her conversation with Doreen. “Maybe that’s why you don’t see nothing wrong with the way he treats you. Maybe that’s why you don’t mind coming up in church singing all these praises to God like you’re the perfect Christian while you know darn well ain’t nothing going on in your home to be giving God praises for. It’s phony, and it’s fake, and everybody can see right through it.”
Sarina grabbed her cheek but still couldn’t stop the stinging left behind from the slap Doreen had just placed there.
“Oh, God, Sarina, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Doreen apologized as she moved toward her sister.
“Get away from me. Just get away from me,” Sarina demanded as she went looking for her coat.
“Where—where are you going?” Doreen asked as Sarina put on her coat.
“Home.” Sarina stomped over to the door.
“But you don’t have a car. Wait and I’ll take you.” Doreen started scrambling for her keys.
“No, thanks. I’ll walk. As a matter of fact, I’d rather walk than ride in the car with you.”
“Sarina, baby, don’t say that. Why are you saying all these awful things to me? What did I ever do to you but love you and take care of you, and all my sisters? This is my life. Why can’t you just let me be me?”
“Because I am you! All right? Okay, big sister, do you get it now? I am you. And so is Pauline, and so is Bethany.” Sarina named their other siblings. “You’re the mold Mama and Daddy shaped for all us other girls to turn out to be. Trust me, they’ve made that clear over the years. And for so long I looked at you, admired you, and couldn’t wait to be you. After all, you were so blessed, so highly favored. The anointing oil on you just trickled down right to us other girls. But then you got with Willie, and it’s like slowly but surely the spigot is being turned off, and the flow is starting to stop.
“And now what?” Doreen pressed. “Keep on talking. You’ve been big enough in your britches to say everything that’s been on your mind thus far. Keep talking.”
Sarina inhaled, stood straight, and said, “And now I’d rather be dead if this is the kind of life I have to look forward to living.” Sarina shook her head. “You’ve ruined it. And with me being next to the eldest, now I’m going to have to battle the family curse you’ve started.” Sarina shook her head as she opened the door. “It was never just about you, Reen. Couldn’t you see that? It was never just about you.” With tears flowing down her face, Sarina stormed out the door to start her three-and-a-half mile walk home.
The revelation that had just hit Doreen felt like lightning striking through her body. Her sister’s words had penetrated her soul. She didn’t even have much time to take in the words before the doorbell rang. “Oh, God, Sarina.” Doreen rushed to open the door hoping Sarina had returned.
“Oh, Ms. Flanagen,” Doreen said when she saw her customer outside her door.
“I hope you got all my cakes ready, gal, ’cause I’m running short on time.” Ms. Flanagen was a big woman; big enough that one might think all twelve of those cakes were just for her. But she ran a little carryout where she planned on selling the cakes by the slice and by the whole. She’d make the most money selling by the slice. Upping the cost from the five dollars she paid for the cakes to the eight dollars she planned on selling them for, she’d still make a nice profit selling them whole as well.
Doreen helped Ms. Flanagen load the cakes in her car. After receiving payment, she went back in the house and tucked her money away in her top drawer where she’d been keeping the profits from her pound-cake business over the last five months. She hadn’t spent one red cent. She had no idea how much a good watch for Willie was going to run her, but she wanted to make sure she had enough to buy the very best or close to it. But now, after once again allowing Sarina’s words to play back in her mind, she was rethinking what she’d do with all that money as she thought out loud, “I wonder how much a whole new life would cost me.”
Doreen was serious in thought. She pictured taking all her money and buying a bus ticket right out of Kentucky—away from her family, the church, just everybody, including Willie—especially Willie. But then, as her stomach began to churn, she remembered one person that she couldn’t leave behind. She placed her hands on her pregnant womb, and then a horrible thought ran through her head as she gasped. “Oh, God, little one,” she said to the unborn baby inside her stomach, “have I cursed you too?”
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m gonna kill him!” Doreen screamed as her tires screeched into a parking spot outside of Our Place. Even though it was cold outside, snow was on the ground, and the ice underneath it was thick. That meant no never-mind to Doreen. She hopped out of that car with no coat, shoes that were ordinarily confined to wearing around the house, and a scarf tied around her hair. She was so hot on the inside that it might as well have been July.
“Well, excuse me,” Doreen heard a woman say as she was fixing to barge into the bar.
“Pardon me. I’m sor—” Once Doreen looked up at the woman she’d nearly trampled over, she almost wished she had—trampled her flat on the ground. An apology was definitely not in order at this point.
“Oh, it’s you,” Agnes said in a singsong tone. “The good wife. I almost didn’t recognize you looking like . . .” She paused to give Doreen the once-over. “Looking like Aunt Jemima.” She laughed. “Then again, I guess that’s a step up for you.” She laughed even harder as she took a cigarette out of the pack in her hand and went to light it.
With the cold winter wind blowing, Agnes was already going to have a hard time getting that thing lit. It didn’t help that once she got close to lighting the cigarette, Doreen blew the fire out.
“What you go and do that for?” Agnes asked. “I came out here just to hit my drag in peace—to get a break from all that inside there.” She nodded to the door. “Here you come to mess up that. What’s your deal anyway? Why you mad at me? I ain’t never did nothing to you.” Agnes cupped her hands around the cigarette and managed to successfully light it this time. “Nothing you can prove anyway.” She let out a gust of smoke into Doreen’s face.
“I promise you on the Holy Bible, tonight ain’t the night,” Doreen warned Agnes. “I’ll beat you like you stole something and repent to the good Lord later. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep that cigarette in your mouth, and my Willie out of it. You dig?”
Agnes’s mouth dropped open as a smile appeared on her face. “My, my, my, the Mrs. done went to see the wizard and got herself some courage. Ain’t that about nothing? Either that or Willie’s ways are rubbing off on ya.” She took a hit from her cigarette and exhaled as she stared off into the night.
Doreen didn’t want to bite the bait Agnes was throwing out there. She wanted to go inside and tend to the business that had brought her out at almost midnight. But Agnes’s last comment had intrigued Doreen. “What do you mean by that? My Willie is just as kind as anybody I know.”
“Guess you ain’t done nothing to piss him off good yet then. Then again, I’m sure you probably haven’t. After all, what reason he got to get ticked off at you about? You let the man do whatever he wants whenever he wants. Why would he want to mess up a good thing like that?” Agnes looked Doreen up and down, taking note of her appearance. “Then again, looks like all that might be about to change. Only a woman who is about to cut the fool will come out of the house looking like that.” Agnes laughed as she took another hit from her cigarette.
Doreen shook her head in pity of Agnes. “I’m not even going to entertain you, girl. You don’t know my husband. You don’t know him at all.” Doreen went and swung the door open.
“No, ma’am, I think you the one who don’t know your husband at all,” Agnes said, almost under her breath.
“What did you say?” Doreen had a major attitude at this point and was ready to rumble with Agnes if need be. Like she’d said before, she’d get with Agnes in a New York minute and repent about it later.
“Oh, nothing,” Agnes said, swooshing her hand in Doreen’s direction.
“Thought so,” Doreen said, heading back into the juke joint.
“Oh, by the way, I hear congratulations are in order.” She looked down at Doreen’s stomach. “I hear you got a bun in the oven.”
Doreen paused but didn’t bother to say thank you. She knew Agnes wasn’t sincere.
“It’s nice of Willie to let you have his child. Spite his actions, he must really love him some wifey.” A look of hurt and sadness seemed to shadow over Agnes at that point as she dropped her cigarette to the ground and put it out with her shoe. “If it was anybody else, he’d probably force them to go visit some back-alley doctor with a dirty knife and a hanger and get it taken care of, if you know what I mean.”
By the look in Agnes’s eyes, Doreen knew exactly what she meant. Doreen had heard the rumor that Agnes was pregnant with Willie’s child. She turned a deaf ear and just waited to see for herself. She was a Christian—she didn’t run her life based on gossip and rumors. As a matter of fact, she wanted no part of it. That wasn’t of God. Doreen was glad she hadn’t reacted to the rumors when Agnes never appeared pregnant—when her belly never grew. Guess now she knew why.
“Anyway,” Agnes said, brushing past Doreen, “thanks for keeping me company while I took me a smoke break. It can get lonely for a girl like me.” Agnes stopped and looked Doreen in the eyes. “But I promise you, I’ll be finding other ways to keep myself company, so you won’t have to worry about me anymore. You know what I mean?”
Doreen nodded. She nodded because she couldn’t speak. All that Agnes had just told her without actually telling her had her feeling some kind of crazy. But as she pulled herself t
ogether and marched into the juke joint, she was about to find out what crazy truly was. And unfortunately, so was Willie.
“Where is it? Where’s my money,” Doreen demanded to know of Willie. She’d stormed into the juke joint and marched right on over to the table where Willie was playing cards.
“Hey, Willie, is that your wife, or did you place an order for some panny cakes?” a gentleman at the table joked as everyone else at the table roared out in laugher.
Doreen ignored the men and repeated, “Where’s my money? All that money I been saving up in my drawer. All those cakes I been baking for months and now the money is gone!” Just a half hour ago Doreen had gotten up off her knees from praying. She went to remove her housecoat to get ready for bed. It had been a late night for her. Someone had called on her at the last minute to bake two cakes for a funeral that was the next morning. Once the cakes were picked up, Doreen had placed her pay in her housecoat pocket. Thank goodness she always checked her pockets before going to bed, or she might have forgotten all about the ten dollars.
She excitedly went to add it to her stash. When she opened her drawer, dug around in it only to find that her entire bankroll was gone, she was fit to be tied. With it being just her and Willie in the house, it didn’t take her long to figure out who might have taken her money. And now here she was to confront Willie about it.
Willie stared up at Doreen. He couldn’t believe she’d actually come out of the house looking like that. He too burst out laughing.
“Oh, you think this is funny? You think this is funny?” Doreen spat. “I’ll give you something to laugh at.” Like a woman gone mad, Doreen started picking up the beer bottles from off the table and throwing them on the ground at Willie’s feet. Each time a bottle crashed she asked, “Where’s my money?”
“Now hold up, gal.” Here came Mr. Tucker with his larger-than-life self. “You ain’t gon’ just come up in here destroying property.”