God Ain't Through Yet

by Mary Monroe

  “You got…raped?” She gasped; then she gave me a pitiful look.

  “Yes,” I said with a nod. “And it went on for years.”

  “Is he in jail?”

  I shook my head. “He was an old man and he eventually died. I didn’t tell my mama what had happened until he’d been dead for a long time. But it still hurts when I think about it. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

  “You think Jacob…uh, can I go to my room now. I don’t like talking about stuff like this.”

  “You can go to your room, but you can expect me to talk about stuff like this whenever I feel it’s necessary. Now, I like Jacob; I like him a lot. But he’s supposed to be courting me, not you. I don’t like it, your daddy doesn’t like it. And I don’t even want to think of how crazy your grandparents will get if they knew about it.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want me to speak to Jacob no more?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t want you to ever leave school with him again—unless I know about it. I don’t want you to ever go to his house again, without me knowing. That’s one thing I’ve already warned you about. You haven’t been back over there, have you?”

  Charlotte dropped her head. Then she nodded. “I rode my bike over there yesterday to see his new goldfish….”

  CHAPTER 54

  “Charlotte, don’t you ever go to Jacob’s house again unless I’m with you. If you do, you will be severely punished. Now, do I make myself clear?”

  She nodded. “Can I go over to Patsy Boone’s house after school tomorrow?”

  “Yes, you can go over to Patsy’s house. She lives just down the block, so I can pick you up on my way home from work.”

  Charlotte couldn’t get to her room fast enough. The phone rang, but I didn’t pick up. I let it go to the answering machine. It was Muh’Dear talking loud and fast. “Annette, pick up that phone. I know you standin’ there.”

  “Hi, Muh’Dear. I was in the bathroom,” I lied.

  “You been hidin’ from us? Scary Mary said she seen you at the mall the other day and you ducked around a corner so fast she couldn’t catch you. She thought you saw her but was tryin’ to dodge her.”

  “I didn’t see her.”

  “Tell Charlotte to come by after school tomorrow. I got some of that hard candy she likes.”

  “She’s going to visit her friend after school tomorrow. You know that little Patsy girl, a grade ahead of Charlotte.”

  Muh’Dear gasped. “You let your baby run around with a pregnant girl?”

  “What are you talking about? Patsy’s only twelve….”

  “My mama had me when she was twelve!”

  “Are you telling me that Patsy Boone, my daughter’s friend, is going to have a baby?”

  “Girl, I’m speakin’ plain English. You can’t understand what I’m sayin’?”

  “How in the world did that happen?”

  “Patsy’s hotter than a six-shooter. I’m surprised it didn’t happen before now.”

  I looked toward the stairs. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  I rushed up to Charlotte’s room and flung open her door. “Girl, why didn’t you tell me that little Patsy girl was pregnant?”

  There was a startled look on Charlotte’s face. She stood in front of the mirror on the front of her closet door admiring the new jeans Jacob had purchased for her. With a shrug, she said, “I thought you already knew. Everybody else in town knows.”

  “Everybody except me,” I said sadly.

  I went back downstairs right away, moving my feet so slowly, it seemed like it was taking forever for me to make it to the living room.

  A few minutes later, Scary Mary entered my house without knocking. She made herself comfortable, stretching out on my living room couch like a cat, staring at me with a sympathetic look on her face as I complained about my daughter’s recent behavior. This was one of the few times I was glad to see her. I needed to talk to somebody after I’d heard about little Patsy’s pregnancy. I had called up Rhoda’s house, but Jade wouldn’t call her to the phone. Then I’d called up Pee Wee. When Lizzie answered the phone, in such a cold and impersonal way—“Annette who?” she’d asked—I got so pissed off I just hung up.

  “I didn’t know that raising a child was going to be this hard,” I lamented.

  “Girl, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. If you this worried about your girl and she ain’t even in her teens yet, just imagine what you’re going to go through then,” Scary Mary said, taking a loud drink from the glass of bourbon she’d requested. “Now, you take me. I was a pistol back in my day. I lost my cherry when I was nine.”

  I could feel the sides of my face tighten. “Was it somebody in your family? Somebody you knew?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who took advantage of you?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Ain’t nobody took advantage of me. I was ready to be popped!” She smacked her lips and winked at me.

  “Oh,” I muttered.

  “He was the cutest boy on the planet. Big brown eyes, smooth butterscotch-colored skin. His daddy was Korean, his mama was black. He was so exotic I couldn’t help myself! Of course, neither one of us knew about orgasms then, so when we came at the same time, we both thought we was havin’ a spasm, and that that was the punishment from God that all the old folks had been scarin’ us with. Heh, heh, heh.” Scary Mary paused and shook her head. There was a wishful look on her face. “Boy, if I could go back in time, I’d be a totally different person if I had had more sense and more guidance.” She sniffed and looked away, but not before a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye. I pretended not to see her wipe it away with the tip of her finger.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything you want to ask me. I ain’t shy.”

  “How did you…how did you end up becoming a madam?”

  “What kind of stupid question is that?”

  “Most kids dream about being doctors and nurses and whatnot….”

  “The young girls back in my day didn’t have a lot of choices. Black and white, they was sellin’ pussy—one way or the other. Hell, just gettin’ married is a form of prostitution! A woman hooks up with a man and she marries him for what he can give her.”

  I shook my head. “There are a lot of women who don’t need a man to take care of them. There are a lot of men who are hooking up with women so they can be taken care of.”

  “And that’s why we call them suckers gigolos!” she yelled.

  I laughed. She didn’t. Instead, she gave me a serious look as she wiped away another tear. “When I found out I could make just as much money sellin’ somebody else’s pussy as I could mine, I did. Shoot. My mama didn’t raise no fool.” She stopped talking and gave me a dry look.

  “You don’t have a problem with taking advantage of people like that?”

  “Takin’ advantage of who? I ain’t never took advantage of nobody in my life! If my girls are fool enough to sell pussy and give me the money, I’m fool enough to take it! This is a mad world, and it’s gettin’ madder by the minute. Now look at you sittin’ there worried to death about your daughter endin’ up a fool.”

  “That’s not exactly what I’m worried about. It’s just that being a single parent is a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Since Pee Wee’s departure, I feel like I’ve aged ten years.”

  “Don’t mention age. As you know, I’m ninety if I’m a day, and I didn’t live this long by bein’ a fool. I stay three steps ahead of everybody. You remind me of myself when I was your age—strong and smart. Women like me and you, we sure enough don’t take no mess. Somehow we always land on our feet like a kitty cat. Speaking of kitty cats, when you get a chance, drop by my house and meet my new booty. Her name is Weng Lu, and she’s from one of them way off Asian cities. She’s real popular with my adventuresome clients. They all want to see if that rumor’s true about Asian gals’ pussies bein’ slanted in a sideways position in the crotch area.” I rolled my ey
es. The old madam, who looked like she belonged in a mummy’s tomb, let out a great belch. “But even with you bein’ strong and smart, you might make it alone and you might not! A woman raisin’ kids alone got it hard.”

  “It’s not like Charlotte’s daddy’s not in the picture,” I reminded. I was glad that we were back on our original subject.

  “He ain’t in the house! And that’s just as bad. If I was in your shoes, I’d be doin’ everything I could to get my husband back.”

  My jaw dropped. “Don’t forget; you were the one who wanted me to chastise him and make him suffer by putting a voodoo spell on him,” I reminded.

  “Well, you know as well as I do that them voodoo spells swing more than one way. You can use it to get rid of him, cripple him, or you can use it to get him back home!”

  “I hope I never want a man bad enough to use voodoo to get him,” I said, putting a lot of emphasis on my words. “I’d rather die alone than go to all that much trouble for love,” I admitted with a shudder.

  “Well, it’s your funeral, baby. Mind if I have me another highball for the road?”

  I didn’t go to bed until midnight, and I didn’t sleep much that night. As soon as I got up the next morning, I called up Jacob.

  “Hey, baby. I was just on my way out the door to work,” he told me.

  “Will you stop by the house tonight. I need to talk to you,” I said in a weak and uncertain voice.

  “Listen, if it’s about me picking Charlotte up from school, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I won’t do it again unless you tell me to.”

  “That’s one of the things that I need to talk to you about,” I mumbled.

  “Let’s discuss it over dinner at that Italian place you like so much. I’ll pick you up around six thirty. Is that cool? I owe you another good time, I think.”

  “I’ll see you at six thirty,” I replied.

  It was one of the longest days I’d ever endured. Pee Wee had picked Charlotte up from school so she could spend the night with him. Jacob picked me up at six thirty just like he said he would. And all the way to the restaurant, he talked about how happy he was going to make me.

  I didn’t beat around the bush when we got to Antonosanti’s. “Jacob, before we discuss our personal relationship, I need to ask you something. And this is business related,” I began. I was glad the waiter had already delivered our wine. I took a long drink.

  Jacob gave me a puzzled look. “Is there somebody else?” he wanted to know, his jaw twitching. “You don’t want me anymore?”

  “We’ll discuss that later—”

  “We’ll discuss that now!”

  Before I knew what was happening, he lunged across the table and grabbed my wrist. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know what the hell you are talking about! And that’s not what I want to discuss,” I yelled, prying his fingers from around my wrist.

  “You are my woman and I love you, BITCH! If I ever catch you, or find out you—”

  I was so furious that when I rose, my chair fell over. “I am not going to stay here and argue with you in a place like this.”

  “You want to get down and funky, I will gladly take you over to the projects on Noble Street. That way we can go at it ghetto style.”

  “I’m out of here.” I looked around. People on all sides were staring at us. Carlo, the cute young waiter who usually waited on me when I visited Antonosanti’s, rushed in my direction.

  “Annette, is there a problem?” Carlo asked, looking from me to Jacob.

  I held up my hand. “It’s all right, Carlo. Put the wine on my account. And please call me a taxi.”

  Before I could leave the table, Jacob leaped up from his seat and slapped my face so hard I saw stars and stripes.

  CHAPTER 55

  There weren’t that many black cops in Richland, but it seemed like every time a disturbance involved black people, black cops showed up. This time was no different. Lonnie Shoemaker, the cop who had handled the situation with Jade and Vernie in that burger place, steamrolled into the restaurant looking like he wanted to shoot up the world. He rushed over to the booth where I stood with a damp napkin, dabbing my busted lip. Jacob was slumped on the seat, crying like a baby, making faces that would make Jim Carrey jealous.

  “What’s the problem?” Lonnie demanded, one hand on his gun. He looked from me to Jacob. A small crowd had formed around us. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so embarrassed. “Annette, it ain’t like you to be involved in some mess like this! Now, who did what?”

  “I’m fine,” I managed, waving my hand with a limp wrist.

  “I didn’t ask you that! I asked you what the problem was?” Lonnie boomed. Lonnie was loud, but he didn’t scare me. I didn’t know of anybody who was actually afraid of him. He was too much of a Chris Rock type—in looks and personality—to be taken seriously. “Did Jacob hit you? Do you want to press charges?”

  I didn’t answer his questions. “I just want to go home,” I insisted, shaking my head so hard it felt and sounded like something inside was rattling.

  “Well, you can go anywhere you want to go after I find out why these folks called for the police.”

  “I…I just snapped,” Jacob sobbed. “I didn’t mean to hit her.”

  “He hit you?” Lonnie asked, whipping out a pair of handcuffs and tossing them to his frightened-looking young white partner. “Dean, cuff him up!” he ordered, shaking a finger at Jacob.

  “I can’t go back to jail! I’ll lose my job! Brother, please cut me some slack!” Jacob hollered, rising.

  Jail? I had no idea that Jacob had been in jail!

  “Annette, you want to press charges?” Lonnie asked me again.

  “I’m fine. I just want to go home,” I said again.

  “Can’t you just let us slide this time?” Jacob begged. “I don’t want my name in the newspaper. I don’t want to lose my job! Please, brother, please, give a brother another chance!”

  “Look, I got more important things to do with my time. Now, I am going to go easy this time. Annette, you leave first. Dean here will put you in my squad car, and I will personally escort you home.” Lonnie stopped talking and gently squeezed my shoulder. Then he turned back to Jacob and said just loud enough for his partner and me and Jacob to hear, “And you, Jacob—you get your black ass out of my sight before I plant some weed on you!”

  I knew Lonnie was not serious, but Jacob must have thought he was. He scrambled away from that table so fast he fell twice before he made it to the exit.

  It seemed like every neighbor on my block just happened to be on their front porch when the police car with me in it stopped in front of my house about fifteen minutes later.

  “Now, if you have any more trouble, you just give us a call,” Lonnie told me as he walked me to my door.

  “This won’t be in the newspaper, will it?” I asked, fumbling for my keys.

  “Don’t worry about it, sister,” he assured me. Lonnie was a dedicated and competent cop, but he still had a lot of his ghetto habits. He had a wife, and a few girlfriends on the side, but he still paid a lot of attention to other women. He was the kind of brother who would pat a woman on the back with one hand and at the same time, pat her on the butt with his other hand. He didn’t even look around before he patted me on the back with one hand and on the butt with the other. Then he gave me a brief hug and gently pushed me into my house.

  I didn’t know why my hand was trembling when I flipped on the light switch. As the bright light flooded the room, I wrung my hands and looked around. I knew that there was no way I was going to continue my relationship with Jacob now. I had been prepared to tell him that, even though I was no longer interested in being his lover, we could still be friends. Now I didn’t even want to do that. And there was still that humongous outstanding bill that he owed to the funeral parlor that I needed to talk to him about.

  I still had my jacket on, and I was too restless to go on about my routine like this was
any other day. I turned off the light and went out to my car. I headed straight toward Rhoda’s house. This was something that I wanted to discuss with her in person.

  As soon as I turned the corner on her street, I got another shock. There were two police cars with flashing lights in her driveway, and an ambulance.

  There was a mob of Rhoda’s nosy neighbors milling around in her front yard. I parked at the nearest available spot on the street and sprinted down the sidewalk.

  “What happened?” I asked the woman who lived in the white house across the street from Rhoda. “Did Jade hurt her husband again?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s the one the police just led out in handcuffs. He’s sitting in the back of one of the squad cars now,” the neighbor woman told me.

  I squeezed my way through the crowd, but when I got to Rhoda’s front door, a grim-faced black policeman prevented me from entering. “Sorry, ma’am. This is a crime scene!” he barked.

  “What happened? I’m a friend of the family!” I wailed as I tried to look past the officer. I couldn’t see or hear anything.

  “Ma’am, please get back,” the officer insisted, gently pushing me away from the door.

  One of the police cars roared off down the street with the siren screaming. I turned for just a moment, and when I looked back at the door, the EMTs were coming out of Rhoda’s house with somebody on a stretcher who looked so twisted and broken I thought I was looking at a large rag doll. The head was completely covered with a blood-soaked white towel. I stretched my neck and blinked hard so I could see better.

  It was Jade.

  The police finally got so aggressive they made every spectator leave the premises. I had to back away with the rest of the crowd as a stout policewoman led Rhoda out of her house. Otis and Bully, both looking like they had been mauled themselves, followed close behind. Rhoda had to be helped into the back of the ambulance. As soon as it shot down the street with the siren blasting, Otis and Bully scrambled into Otis’s Jeep and followed it.