We Ain’t the Brontës

by Rosalyn McMillan

  I wake up at two in the morning and run to my computer. The book is so exciting that it’s practically writing itself. I’m just the tool that is putting word to paper. I’ve got my swag turned on and I’m unstoppable.

  I call Arlene and tell her about the book. “Charity, I know an editor who’s very interested in buying books about famous siblings. How soon can you finish the book?”

  Feeling optimistic, I say, “Eight weeks.” My excitement is now bordering on the hysterical.

  “Excellent. Keep me posted on your progress.”

  When I hang up, I run back upstairs to my office. I haven’t told Jett about my new book. I want to surprise him when I have a check in hand. If I tell him now, he will probably be as negative as a botched Polaroid.

  15

  We are scheduled to go to closing on our house sale. Unfortunately, closing on the home we are purchasing is delayed. The closing isn’t scheduled until the following Thursday. Thankfully, the buyers give us another week before we have to vacate.

  Most women hate packing, and I am no exception. Over the past twenty years, we’ve moved four times. This time, I decide to take a different tactic. I intend to pack everything ahead of time and only leave out the clothes that we need to wear for five days.

  On Wednesday of the next week, Elaine advises us that our closing on our new home is being pushed back again. The movers are scheduled for tomorrow morning. Mr. and Mrs. James refuse to give us another extension, so we are forced to move out before we have a place to go.

  My mother used to say that I’m not a follower, I’m a leader, so I lead. I make reservations at the Homesuites Motel, just a mile away from our home. We put our furniture in storage. The twins are restless, being forced to stay at the hotel. They can hardly tolerate being so cramped up. The two of them are as spoiled as I am about having so much space.

  “Listen, boys. I don’t want to hear from any of your teachers that you haven’t turned in your homework assignments on time.” I stare them down. “Do I have your promise?”

  “For sure, Moms,” they say.

  While we’re at the hotel, I decide that it’s time to get serious about looking for a job. I never want to be in this situation again, so until I get a new contract, I will work. I go on an interview. Ironically enough, it’s for a car salesman’s job. When I see the ad in the paper about how much a salesman can potentially make in a year, I am sold. Call me materialistic, but I like shopping at Neiman Marcus too. I am also a little perturbed. Jett has never shown me his check. I didn’t have a clue about his salary until now.

  The interview at Vector Mazda goes smoothly. The general manager is impressed by my energy, and offers me a job. I tell him I can’t start for another week because of our move, but I take home educational materials to learn about the cars I will be selling.

  After four days in the motel, it is finally time to move. We sign the closing papers at 9:30 a.m. at First Fidelity Bank and by ten have the movers ready to transfer our furniture to our new home.

  I have to admit the twins are a great help, lifting, dragging, and hauling every item that the movers don’t. It takes extra time to move all of the twins’ various art supplies. The movers have to be careful not to break or tear any of the numerous jars or canvases. To make matters worse, the books from my office weigh a ton. The movers are sweating so profusely, I feel sorry for them. I offer them cold sodas and pastrami and cheese sandwiches. Ultimately, we don’t finish until two in the morning.

  For the first time in months, I’m not depressed. I am so excited about my new job that I can barely sleep that night.

  The next morning, I jump up at five and begin to unpack. I estimate that it will take me three to four days to get everything in place. Thankfully, Herman comes over to pitch in, and Jett and the twins also help when they aren’t at school or working.

  Of course, everything doesn’t fit. We overestimated some of the room dimensions. We end up calling the Salvation Army and giving away more furniture and boxes of books. It hurts my heart, but I have to do what I have to do. I’m starting a new chapter in my life.

  By Sunday the house looks like a home. What really sets it off are the twins’ beautiful paintings. In truth, they look even nicer in this home with the pillars and arched ceilings than they did in our old home.

  The day before I am about to start my new job, Jett is in a terrible mood.

  “Jett, do you have something to say to me?”

  “You’re not going to like selling cars.”

  As I wipe off the marble countertops in the kitchen, I ask, “Why not?”

  “Because, like I said before, there’s too many politics. The big wigs at the dealership treat the ‘house mouses’ like kings. It’s not a job for a woman. Why do you think there aren’t any females working in car sales in Memphis?”

  I hadn’t thought about that. When I bought my BMW four years earlier, I didn’t give a thought to all of the male salespeople in the dealership. However, when I bought the Navigator back in Michigan, a woman sold me the SUV.

  “I don’t know, Jett. And I don’t care.” I carefully place the dishcloth across the sink divider and turn to look at him. “I’m going to be the best salesperson in this area, male or female.” I can’t help it if my mama raised me to have confidence. “Herman agrees that I’ll be a good car salesman too.”

  Jett rolls his eyes at me.

  I blow him off like a bottle of bubbles. I make up my mind that in order to be the best I have to be informed. Obviously Jett is not going to enlighten me about the car business. I am on my own. I retrieve my sourcebook. To avoid any foreseeable problems, I read and take notes until one in the morning. I don’t have to be at work until 8:30, but can’t sleep past six. After having coffee, reading the paper, and checking out the morning news on Channel 5, I dress with special care. When I check out my image in the mirror, I feel that I look sophisticated, just the look I want to achieve.

  Day one is beyond my expectations. The other employees make me feel welcome, and the general manager is impressed by how quickly I’ve learned the information from the manual. I witness none of the politics and negativity that Jett warned me about, and I go home in a great mood. Unfortunately, Jett is still in a foul mood, so I don’t even talk about work at dinner.

  “I want you to quit,” he demands when we get in bed later that night.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want my wife driving men around who could possibly assault her. You don’t know a damn thing about these buyers. They could be drunks, rapists—“

  “Wait a minute. We get a copy of everyone’s driver’s license and—“

  “Fuck that! Do you know how many criminals have fake licenses?”

  “Jett, you’re being unreasonable. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” He jumps out of the bed and grabs a pillow. “You tell your boss that you’re not coming back.” The walls shake when he slams the door behind him.

  I am furious. All the time he’s been complaining about our financial problems, and now that I’ve gotten a job to contribute to our household, he doesn’t want me to have it. I can’t figure out what his problem is.

  The next morning, we aren’t speaking. I get myself ready for work and leave, severely disappointed in my mate. I can’t wait until Jett confronts me about quitting my job again; then I can tell him to kiss my fat ass.

  “Do you have something to tell me, Charity?” Jett asks after he takes a shower that evening.

  “Yes. I’m keeping my job. I’m good at it and I love it. Besides, we need the money and you know that car salesmen bring in a good income. I can make over five thousand dollars on one deal. I can’t ignore that kind of money.”

  Jett pounds the wall with his fist and storms off into our bedroom wet and naked. He doesn’t sleep on the couch like he did the night before, but he stays on his side of the bed.

  Sex is a no-no for the next two weeks. Jett says hel
lo and good-bye, but little else. I don’t even get to tell him how excited I am when I sell my first car. The only thing I look forward to when I come home is receiving a warm hug from my sons and working on Revelations. Not only am I sure that this will be the book that gets me a new contract, but it will stick it to Lynzee after all the heartache she’s put me through.

  At night, I dream about the way my life used to be, when my books were being published and my marriage wasn’t under so much strain. I long for those days. Will we ever get back to that place? With Jett’s new unreasonable attitude, and the specter of Lynzee and April always hanging over my head, I don’t know what will become of my marriage.

  16

  Revelations is finished, and Arlene has submitted it to editors at several publishing houses. She has received good feedback from a few, so I’m feeling hopeful this morning. I decide to take that positive energy and break the ice with Jett, who is still barely speaking to me.

  I casually mention that a local radio host called and asked me to be on her morning program. I have been on twice before. “I told her that I don’t have a new book out yet, but I can talk about my work at Mazda. Maybe my loyal readers will come down and buy a car from me while they wait for my next book.”

  I hope that this will get a laugh out of Jett, but he doesn’t even look up from his newspaper. So much for breaking the ice.

  Later that night, Jett finally decides to speak to me, but his tone is nasty when he says, “Charity, you don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “How far you’ve fallen. You used to be a writer, and now you’re a car salesman. That’s sniggle material. Next to attorneys, car salesmen are the lowest people on the totem pole. No one trusts them.”

  I am ready to hit the roof. I also feel humiliated.

  He isn’t finished. “The buyers need you temporarily to get their deal done. But secretly, they’re calling you all kinds of greedy bitches behind your back.”

  “You’re just jealous is all. Why don’t you admit it? My commission check was bigger than yours and you can’t stand it.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Car salesmen talk, and I heard all about the commission you made on that Shelby Mustang. And since I heard about you, you had to have heard about all the money I made on that Avalanche I sold. Kinda makes your check look like chicken scratch, doesn’t it.” I get all up in his face and put my hands on my hips. He frowns and pushes me out of the way.

  His attitude is way out of line. Am I out selling pussy on the corner of Beale Street and Third Avenue? No. Am I consuming Hennessy by the fifth? No, not like I used to in the past. I haven’t touched an ounce of liquor in three years. Then give me a damn break!

  I still can’t calm down enough to speak. Tears start in the back of my throat, hard tears that burn like nitro glycerin. How can he treat me this way? Hurt and embarrassment swell in my chest and shaky tears pollute my eyes. I get up on rubber band legs and walk away. I’ll be damned if I let him see me cry. I will shit bricks before I let him see any evidence of my pain.

  It’s not long before I finally get the news I’ve been waiting so long to hear. My book has been accepted by Harold House Publishers! They offer me $150,000. Unlike previous offers where I’ve asked my agent to negotiate for more, I happily accept this offer. I believe in my heart that Revelations is going to be hugely successful and bring me royalties for years to come.

  Until I get my first advance check, our funds will still be tight. Jett is finally talking to me again, but things are still a bit tense because I tell him I can’t quit my job until the writing money starts flowing again. In a few months, I tell him, this job will be history. This seems to ease his mind a little. I know things will be fine; there is a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel we’ve been in.

  17

  When I return home from work one afternoon, I receive a letter from Lynzee. It’s short and nasty:

  I heard about your new book. I also know how much information that you revealed about my relationship with Heidi Armstrong. I could have told everyone about your suicide attempt in 1995, but I didn’t. How could you be so heartless? I’ll never forgive you for this. Not in ten lifetimes…

  I wonder how she found out so quickly. Then I remember that her agent knows everyone in publishing. She has been in the business for twenty-seven years. She probably has a copy of the manuscript. By now, Lynzee probably has a copy too, even though it’s not on bookshelves yet.

  Nevertheless, I don’t feel bad, because in the book, I only told the truth. When Lynzee was in her sophomore year at Chapel Hill University in North Carolina, she caught her boyfriend of eight months cheating on her. When she confronted him, he retaliated by giving her a black eye and breaking her left arm.

  Lynzee was consoled by her friend, Heidi. Within a short period, they became lovers and continued their affair for over a year. Then Lynzee took a liking to Develle Ellis, a forward on the basketball team. Lynzee began dating both Develle and Heidi. Finally, Lynzee stopped seeing Heidi. Lynzee blew her off and continued her relationship with Develle. In the spring of 1976, Heidi killed herself. Lynzee didn’t even go to the funeral.

  Heidi’s family was devastated. Heidi was on the dean’s list and was considered a very religious young woman. Lynzee calls herself a Christian, but is only seen in church at a loved one’s funeral. Lynzee told me once or twice that Heidi wanted them to get married. This was before gays getting married became fashionable. I always told Lynzee that she should have told Heidi the truth, that she always felt romantic and sexual feelings for men. Lynzee didn’t agree. She felt that Heidi was just a fling, just a college experience that she’d eventually get over.

  Heidi was the last woman that Lynzee had a relationship with, or so she says. In my opinion, I think that Tyler has guessed that her mother is bisexual. That’s why she became sexually active at age fourteen. She doesn’t want to be like her mother.

  In Revelations, I also reveal that Lynzee didn’t earn her B.S. degree at UCLA; she bought it. Her master’s degree is a phony too. Finally, I tell about Lynzee’s sexual misconduct with several bookstore owners who report to the New York Times. She screwed her way to the top—and it didn’t matter if the bookstore owner was a man or a woman. She did what she needed to do to gain financial success.

  Lynzee thinks she’s worrying me by threatening to tell about my suicide attempt. Maybe she hasn’t read the book after all, because if she had, she would know that I revealed that information in the book. It is a very moving and honest portrayal of a deeply depressed woman. I pray often for God to forgive my trespasses and not hold them against me. I know that I will have to pay for my sin, but I hope that God will be merciful and not make the punishment too harsh.

  Lynzee’s letter ends with a Bible quote: “A gracious woman retaineth honour: and strong men retain riches. The merciful man doeth good to his own soul: but he that is cruel troubleth his own flesh.” Proverbs: 11:16-17.

  This basically says that a woman who has cruel intentions troubles her own self. All I know is what Shakespeare once said: “The devil can cite Scripture for his purposes.”

  To hell with Lynzee. She needs to get down on her knees and pray for forgiveness. Maybe once they’re raw and bleeding, she might feel redeemed.

  18

  After I receive Lynzee’s letter, I don’t hear from her, which surprises me. Usually her letters are a prelude to some really foul behavior. I expected this time to be even worse, since my book will soon be out there for the world to read.

  I get a call from my cousin Kai, who tells me some shocking news.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” she says.

  “Come clean with it. What’s up?”

  “What’s Up magazine is saying that Lynzee is hooked on Percocet and she just got out of rehab.”

  “Kai, please. You know that rag is just as bad as the National Enquirer. Most of the stuff they print in there is straight-up lies.” I think Kai
wants to believe it’s true because she and Lynzee don’t get along. Ever since Lynzee became famous, Kai feels that Lynzee abandoned her. Half the time, Lynzee won’t even return Kai’s calls.

  “Yeah, but I think this one is true,” Kai insists. “A friend of mine knows the personal trainer that works for Lynzee, and he’s saying she really is hooked on drugs.”

  I am dumbfounded. I’ve heard all about Percocet, the drug of choice for some of Hollywood’s biggest stars. It’s habit-forming, and is easy to overdose because it makes you feel so good. Is that the reason why she’s been so nasty to me lately? In my heart, I am really only looking for any plausible excuse for her behavior, so that I can forgive her. Call me weak, or a fool, but I deeply love my sister. I don’t want to see anything happen to her. I definitely don’t want to entertain the idea that she’s an addict. Is it just coincidence that this happened just as Revelations is about to go to print?

  “Kai, I’ve gotta go.”

  “Why? I thought we’d gossip a little longer.”

  “I’ve got to call Zedra.”

  Zedra is Lynzee’s best friend from junior high school. Zedra used to let me hang around her and Lynzee when we were younger, but we were never really close. Zedra lives in New York. She and Lynzee visit each other at least six times a year.

  When I call Zedra, her voice mail picks up. I leave a message, but she doesn’t call me back.

  At work the next day, I can’t get Lynzee out of my mind. I think back to the times when Lynzee was younger and she had to take care of me. Our mother worked as a cook at Big Boy Restaurant and our father was in and out of the tuberculosis sanitarium in Saginaw, Michigan. From the time Lynzee was in the fourth grade, she took over the household. Tall for her age, she could cook and clean better than a grown woman. Even though we were poor, our home was as spotless as the Rockefellers’.