Have Mercy

by Siobhán Béabhar

  "I guess the laughter means that Jack is well?" Melia asked, standing next to the stove, cooking her lunch.

  My eyes didn't leave the screen as I waited for his return. "Yeah, he looks good. He's yelling at the guys for making fun of me," I gloated.

  "That poor boy is going to spend the rest of his youth regretting his time with your old ass," she said.

  "He's in his mid-thirties. That makes him middle-aged, just like I am," I retorted.

  Melia's head swiveled on her neck and her lips smacked as she said, "But does he get AARP magazines like you do?" I gave her the finger, hiding my gesture from the small camera on my laptop. She cackled while she spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate. "I didn't think so."

  There was a blur of movement as Jack returned to the screen. "Sorry about that."

  "Not a problem," I said, my eyes locked on Melia's smug face.

  "But I do have to go. I need to prepare for tomorrow's briefing. I'll send you an email after the meeting. Good night, lady," he said, winking at the screen.

  I blew a kiss. "I have another gal coming to check out the room today."

  "Lovely. Take notes," he said.

  "See ya, kiddo."

  The video disconnected. I closed my laptop and left the table. I walked over to Melia and stuck my finger deep into her potatoes, "Looks yummy."

  "I really can't stand your stank ass," she said, removing that section from her plate.

  I laughed as I walked out of the kitchen, sucking on my finger. As I entered the foyer, I heard the sound of footsteps on the porch. The gal was early. That was either fantastic or awful.

  I peered through the peephole, taking note of the prissy-looking woman. She wasn't prim like Penelope, not in an elegant, dignified way. This woman looked afraid of her own shadow, her eyes darting up and down the block as she waited at the door. She had shoulder-length, mousy brown hair. Her eyes were dark and beady, reminding me of a rat. Her nose was long and pointed. I bet she loved cheese.

  "Good afternoon," I said, opening the door wide. "You must be Nancy Finley?"

  She stuck her hand out, and we shook hands as she said, "I am Nancy. You must be Mercy?"

  "Indeed. Welcome to my home," I said, moving away from the door. She stepped into the foyer. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Albertine descending the stairs. Albertine brightened at seeing her, but Nancy shrunk away, clutching her purse.

  "Nancy, I'd like you to meet one of the girls. Albertine, this is Nancy; she's here about Carol's room," I said.

  Albertine offered her hand. Nancy lifted her own, her fingers grazing Albertine's before her hand dropped back to her side. "Nice to meet you," she muttered.

  "Hi, Nancy," Melia said from the kitchen doorway. Nancy muffled a screech, her hands tightening on her purse as she turned towards Melia. Her gaze flickered away, a plea clear on her face.

  Poor Nancy must have had one of those social phobias. It would have been the end of our Saturday evening soirees if she were to move in. "Nancy, please follow me and I'll show you the room," I said, waving her towards the stairs.

  I followed Nancy up the stairs. I waited, expecting her to comment on the staircase, but she said nothing. I pointed towards Red's old room and Nancy dashed inside like it was a safe haven.

  I stepped into the room. Nancy whirled, her eyes wide and unblinking when she said, "Do they both live here?"

  "Who?"

  "Those colored women," the rat said.

  As a girl, the term "colored" had been used quite frequently to describe folks like me. I still heard it now and then, but mostly in whispered conversations such as this.

  "Melia and Albertine, you mean? Yes, they live here," I confirmed.

  "I see," she said, her hand dropping to the doorknob. She ran her fingers over the round surface, as if searching for a lock. "This room is five hundred, right?"

  "That's right."

  "Why did the other lady leave? Were you all getting along?" she asked, her finger making a loop in the air.

  "You know how it is, you throw a bunch of personalities into a house and there are bound to be clashes. Generally speaking, we all got along. In fact, we're all good friends," I said.

  "Oh. There's another lady in the house. Is she colored too?"

  "No, she's White," I said, my patience thinning.

  "Thank goodness. I'm just more comfortable around people like us."

  I sighed. Nothing new on this score. "Like us how? You're a teacher, too?"

  "No. I'm a retired nurse," she said, her arms finally relaxing around her purse.

  "Widows. You must mean people like us widows," I persisted.

  "No, I'm divorced," she said.

  "But you said people like us."

  "You know. White people," she confessed.

  "Oh, for a minute, I thought you were saying you were a whore, too."

  She recoiled, as I expected her to. Her gaze ran over me, disbelief clear on her face. She scoffed. "You're teasing me."

  "I'm not," I gloated. "I make money as an escort. As a matter of fact, so did the woman who used to live in this room. Thank goodness you are bringing your own bed." I winked for emphasis.

  All traces of color left her face. "I have another appointment that I should get to," she sputtered.

  "Yeah, I bet you do," I said, nearly pushing her out of Red's room.

  "I'll give you a call about the room," she said, moving down the stairs, making a dash for the door.

  "Don't stress yourself," I said, wiggling my fingers as the rat scampered away. "Racist bitch," I muttered as I walked down the stairs.

  "Are you ever going to fill that room?" Albertine asked. She stood at the window, watching Nancy trot down the street. "I'm beginning to think you're scaring these women away on purpose."

  "Phfft. That one there just called y'all colored women." I grinned, slapping my hand against the railing.

  Albertine lifted her hand, dismissing my comment. "I'm not going to get bent out of shape over a term like that."

  "I will," I snapped, shaking my fist in the air. I wasn't sure who it was directed at, but it felt good.

  "I think that I heard Jack's voice earlier. How is he?" Albertine asked, smiling at me.

  "He's doing good. He got the care package we sent him."

  "Oh good. So he got the porn?" Melia called out from the kitchen.

  "No, I took the magazines out, Melia."

  Her feet pounded against the wooden floor as she came storming into the foyer. "Why?"

  "You can't send pornographic material to an Islamic country."

  "But Jack's American," she said.

  "In Afghanistan. An Islamic country."

  "They can't have porn?" she asked.

  "No porn. Wasn't your daughter in Iraq?"

  She rolled her eyes. Taking a deep breath she said, "Like I would send porn to my daughter."

  I threw up my hands, backing away from Melia. "You never know with you, Melia." I walked into the kitchen, hearing her mutter about me to Albertine. I sat back down at the table and re-started my computer.

  I had gotten used to it over the last few months. Okay. That was a huge understatement. I had become addicted to my little laptop, carrying it with me everywhere. Red had introduced me to a few online boutiques, and I found myself shopping for shoes, dresses, and jewelry.

  I had even used it to schedule a few dates. I hadn't told Jack about them. I figured he knew, but he wasn't going to say anything about it. Our friendship was quite complicated.

  I checked my email and saw a few new messages. Most were from women hoping to lease the spare bedroom. There was a new message from Jack. I clicked on it and, in the body of the message, there was a huge image of Jack's penis. I covered my face as I snorted with laughter. I peered over the monitor, checking where the other gals were. Melia and Albertine were no longer in the foyer.

  I wiggled my index fingers, thinking up a response to his message. Just as I began to click away, the sound of a man's voice cam
e drifting through the kitchen.

  I looked up to see Arthur standing near the front door. I squeezed my eyes closed. Opened them. And squeezed again. Nope. He was still there. I got up from the table, prepared to toss him out, but then I noticed Penelope standing behind him.

  A rumbling sound escaped his throat as he grabbed Penelope around the waist and pulled her towards him. A coy smile curled her lips as he began to kiss her loudly and thoroughly.

  Clamping my mouth shut, I swallowed the bitter bile that pooled in my mouth. He pulled away from her, smacked her ass, and did that rumbling laugh before he walked out the door. My mouth fell open as I turned towards Penelope.

  She stood there, a hand on her waist, her hip slightly cocked. Grinning, she raised her hand, clutching a folded wad of bills. "Five thousand," she purred, before she pivoted and strutted back up the steps to her room.

  I circled the foyer, excited to share the gossip but Melia and Albertine were nowhere in sight. Footsteps pounded on the porch. Pulling open the door, I stood back, expecting Arthur to come storming back through the door. Instead, Powell strode into the room. He nodded to me but looked up the stairs, his face glowing when Albertine appeared.

  Stepping aside, I watched as Albertine gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Albertine and Powell had developed a slow courtship over the last month. He had continued to attend our Saturday soirees, and he made sure to sneak in a few chaste moments with her.

  The two of them walked up the stairs to Albertine's room. I waited a few moments before I ran up the stairs and knocked on Melia's door.

  "Did you know about this?" I asked, gesturing at Albertine's shut door.

  Melia stepped out onto the walkway, her eyes locked on the door. "Ain't nothing happening in there," she said stepping back into her room.

  I held her door open, poking my head inside. "Are you positive?"

  "Yeah. Albertine isn't going to give it up that easy."

  "The Sister smokes dope," I said, crooking my finger in Albertine's direction.

  "Between you and me. It will be a cold day in Hell before that bed shakes," Melia snorted.

  "We'll see," I said, stepping away from her doorway. "It wouldn't be the first time Hell froze over."

  Melia's head dipped towards me, her eyes narrowed. "Who are you talking about?"

  I glanced over at Penelope's door. Then I pushed Melia back into her room, and closed the door behind us. Melia sat down on her bed, an expectant look on her face. I leaned against the door, savoring the moment.

  "Guess who just left the house," I said, the words bursting from my mouth.

  "Jack?"

  "What?"

  "I can't imagine you getting this excited over someone else."

  "No, not Jack, for Christ's sake. Arthur!" I hissed through my teeth, my hand at the corner of my mouth, as if to muffle the sound of his name.

  "You're shitting me," she said, leaping from the bed.

  "I'm not!"

  "Did you beat his ass?"

  "Why?"

  "Because he keeps bothering Penelope. Bothering us," she said.

  I shook my head. My lips puckered as I fought a smile. "I wouldn't say he bothered her."

  "What would you call it?"

  The right words didn't form in my mind. "Maybe boinking is a better word."

  "Boin..." she murmured before understanding registered on her face. "I didn't see that coming."

  "I know, right? Like I said, Hell has already froze over."

  "Do you think they are getting back together?" she asked.

  Laughing, I shook my head. "No way. This was a business transaction, Melia."

  "She sold her ass to him?" she quipped. The laughter bubbled from her chest. She clapped her hands then she stomped her feet. "How much?"

  "She said he paid her five thousand."

  "How long do you think this has been going on?" she asked.

  "I don't know. This is the first that I've seen them together for months."

  She grinned, looking up towards the ceiling. "Hell has indeed frozen over."

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  I could hear a slamming sound coming from the second floor. I had just finished my shower when the sound floated into the room. I dried myself off, tugged on a robe, and left my room to investigate. I crossed the parlor and stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for the sound again. This time, laughter accompanied the pounding. I moved down the walkway, stopping at each room, placing my ear close to the door.

  Then I heard the sound again, coming from Albertine's side of the house. I noticed Penelope standing in front of Albertine's door. Her hand rose to knock.

  I stopped her. I grabbed a vase and tossed the artificial flowers out, fearing what we would find when the door opened. I whispered to Penelope, "Don't knock; just go in."

  "Are you sure?" she whispered back.

  "Go."

  She braced herself, squaring her shoulders before pushing on Albertine's door. We stumbled into the room. Penelope nearly tripped over Albertine's rug. My hip bumped into her, causing her to lose her balance completely. She tumbled onto the floor. I held the vase high, ready to crash it down on Powell's head.

  Albertine was safe. The little wren was sitting on the edge of a chair, a twittering sound coming from her lips.

  It was Powell making the banging sound. Him and him alone. He was jumping on the bed, dressed in a white cotton tee shirt, and a pair of pink striped boxers. He wore a large cowboy hat that fell over his green eyes and brown leather holsters on his hips. He held two revolvers. He had been shooting at images of cowboys on Albertine's television. He made a "Pow" sound with each click.

  Our stumbling into the room had caused him to whip around, his toy guns primed and ready. The scene was not what I expected. The vase tumbled from my hands, fell to the floor and shattered.

  At that, Shelton raised his toy gun and aimed it at me. "Pow," he said, pulling the trigger.

  I gurgled. The words caught in my throat. A moaning sound came from the floor. I looked down to see Penelope's face buried in the rug, her body vibrating with laughter.

  "What is this strange shit?" Melia asked from the doorway.

  Albertine giggled herself off of her chair. Shelton turned towards his newest foe, poised to defend his woman. Melia threw her hands up, a plea for her life. "This motherfucker has snapped!"

  "It's not real," I said, pushing the words through my lips.

  "They're fake?" Melia asked.

  I nodded. I nudged Penelope, but she only laughed harder. Melia moved and grabbed a pillow from the bed.

  "Didn't." Whack. "Your Mother." Whack. "Teach you not to jump on the bed!" Whack. "You Goddamn fool!" Whack.

  Powell hopped off the bed, his hands covering his head as he made his way towards the door. Melia followed him, smacking him with the pillow. Penelope was useless, prostrate on the floor. Albertine had wedged herself between the wall and her chair. Her little brown legs stuck up in the air. I shook my head and snatched up his clothing.

  Backing out of the room, I slammed the door. I stormed down the stairs, catching up to Melia. I feared for his life. Not because of Melia's assault. I was afraid he would fall down the stairs and break his stupid neck. What a fucking scene that would have been. "Congressman dies in fall, caught wearing a holster and toy guns. Details at five."

  He reached for the door. I landed against it, forcing it closed. "You don't want to go out dressed like that," I said tossing his clothes at him.

  Melia tucked the pillow against her chest, wrapping her arms around it as she gazed at him. He stepped into his pants, watching her for any movement. Her eyebrow rose as he pulled on his shirt and stepped into his shoes.

  "Tell Albie I'll call her later," he said, dashing out the door.

  Melia stared down her nose and said, "I ain't tellin' her shit."

  Melia and I shared a look before her face puckered with amusement. I said, "I swear, the things I've seen in this house lately."

  "H
m." Turning on her heel, she rushed back up the stairs. I followed behind, curious to see the ending.

  "Albertine? What was that about?" Melia shouted.

  We entered Albertine's bedroom. She and Penelope were sitting on the bed, innocent expressions on their faces. Narrowing my eyes, I pointed at them. "You two are a disgrace."

  "Me?" Albertine squeaked.

  "Yes, you and her," I said. "Yesterday, I saw Arthur come prancing out of Penelope's room and now Shelton's playing cowboys and Indians on your bed."

  Melia asked from the doorway, "Did he lose his damn mind?"

  "No," Albertine said, no explanation coming. There was a satisfied expression on her face.

  "Did you two...you know?" I asked her.

  "Have sex? No, we did not," she said.

  "But he stayed the night?" Melia charged.

  "Yes, but he slept on the floor, and that's all I'm telling you," Albertine said.

  Her bedroom window was wide open. On her nightstand was an ashtray, a used joint propped against the edge. I looked at the wren, my little pothead. Her gaze shifted to the ashtray, she hunched her shoulders, and suppressed a grin.

  I looked at Penelope, her face darkened to a deep red. "What's your story?"

  "Nothing," she hedged.

  "Not you, too?" Melia sneered.

  Penelope gasped. Her mouth fell open as she crooked her thumb towards Melia. "Did you tell her?"

  "Of course I did!"

  "Tell her what?" Albertine asked.

  "You don't get to know, Ms. Secrets," Melia snapped, placing her hands on her hips. She looked at me, waved her hand in my direction and said, "You see what you've done? You've ruined her. You've ruined the both of them."

  "Don't place the blame on me!"

  "How long did you wait before telling Melia?" Penelope charged in.

  "Right after that asshole left my house!" I said.

  "I can't believe you told on me," she retorted.