Life is Short But Wide

by J. California Cooper

  Tonya replied, “A very nice place I know. Been thinkin on it for a long time now. She'll be jes fine, Leroy. Let me,” she placed her hip back on his crotch, “jes let me handle yo'r sweet baby, Baby. I ain't gon let no chile get hurt no where round me!” She looked down at his crotch as she said, “Ya jes handle this juicy thing! And this juicy steak I done cooked for ya. Let me worry bout the baby. I done learnt to love her jes like ya do.”

  Soon thereafter, one night lying in bed, Tonya kept filling Leroy's glass with liquor, pretending to drink right along with him. He was drunk and sleeping when she jumped out of bed, quietly, of course. She hurriedly dressed Myine, pushing and dragging her to the old raggedy car Leroy still had. She drove her about fifty miles away to a little cafe named Mom's Cafe. The child was half asleep. “She ain't never gonna know where she at, do she take a mind to find her way home.”

  Inside the cafe two older white people, the Whipets, were a little surprised when Tonya came in carrying a child. Pa Whipet said, “Well, ya done finally made it. We bout done gave ya up!”

  Tonya looked at Ma Whipet, asking, “Where her bed?”

  “Over hind the kitchen. G'mon, I'll show ya!” Mz. Whipet said. “My, she a big little girl.” Tonya motioned with her finger on her lips. “Shhhhh. She sleep.”

  When Myine was placed in the makeshift bed, they returned to the dining room. Mr. Whipit gave Tonya one hundred dollars for Myine. “We sure been needin help! Ma is gettin old, and I ain't none too well.”

  Tonya placed the money in her purse, and said, “Don pay no tention to nothin she say; she tell lies to get some tention. She a good worker. Good-bye, ya'll.” It was 1947, and Myine was about eight years old.

  Tonya was gone back to the house. In the morning, Leroy woke up, mind hazy, and late, rushing to work. He looked through the door, checking on Rose, but didn't notice Myine was gone.

  Juliet and Bertha always looked for Myine to stop for breakfast on her way to school. When they missed her, they couldn't get any answers except from Tonya. She said, over her shoulder, “That baby don't need to be over here at yo house with her mama dying.”

  Rose did die soon after that. She kept asking for her child; Tonya kept saying, “She be here soon. Now ya jes rest.”

  When Rose died she was thinking of her husband, and her child. She raised up a little from the bed, holding her arms out. She cried out, “Leroy? Myine? Myine.” Rose's head fell back onto the pillow, she exhaled a long breath, and then she was gone.

  The funeral was small; it wasn't held at the church. They held it quickly, in the parlor of the house: Leroy, Bertha, Juliet, Joseph, Cloud, and a few others who just happened to find out Rose had died.

  After Rose's death, the thrill of making love dulled for Leroy. It wasn't as good, or desirable. The heavy, horrible truth of what Tonya had done frightened him. Sometimes the sight of Tonya, even her big behind, made Leroy frown with annoyance. He would think, “Ya know, God? This wasn't none of my idea to hurt Rose. I miss Rose; she was clean, and sweet. Her lovin was never bad. She was clean all over. Don't put this on me, Lord.”

  Tonya noticed Leroy had slacked off making love, no matter how she flashed her behind, or rubbed up against him. She rolled her eyes, thinking, “This negra better wake up. He ain gonna get no other woman! Not now! This house is … ours!”

  In every moment, every day, there was something unexpected for Bertha; the death, the funeral, the disappearance of Myine. Everything always seemed so sudden. “Just life and all these things,” sighed Bertha through her tears, “goin too fast for me.”

  But not for Juliet. She cast many dark looks at her mother. “I told you, you should have told Rose. Told somebody, even Myine, what was going on in that house. Now look. Our best friends. The one is dead, the other is gone. And we don't know nothing!”

  Life and death seemed to keep Bertha and Juliet too busy to try to find out more about anything. Juliet, in her new wheelchair, would roll herself over to the house to throw rocks at the doors, front and back, until Tonya answered.

  “What ya want?”

  “Where is Myine?”

  “Her daddy sent her off so she don't have to go through all the pain of her mama's dyin.”

  “Where did he send her?”

  “Well, now, missy Juliet, I think ya is gettin in somebody else bizness! What ya need to be thinkin bout is the rent ya gonna have to pay, now Rose is gone!” Then Tonya slammed the door shut. That happened several times. Then Tonya stopped answering the door.

  Bertha did not want any problems. She could not afford to pay any rent. Joseph was sick unto death, and hadn't been able to keep up any work. Bertha was working a domestic job that kept them all going. They worked together to keep the front yard weeded and clean. Cloud mowed the small front lawn.

  In her grief, Juliet called Rose “Aunt” to feel closer to her. She frowned, saying, “But Aunt Rose would not have charged us, Mama. We can still do things round here. We watch this place, and keep it pretty clean.”

  Joseph was quietly crying at the circumstances he was leaving his family in. His heart stopped pumping the feeble blood, and he died with the tears rolling down his face. They held a memorial in the little shack they called home. The house Joseph had built. It was a sad, sad, terrible day. They didn't know what was going to happen to them. A disabled young woman, and a tired, ill, old woman. The family.

  But they had Cloud. Cloud loved Juliet, and thought a great deal of Bertha. He still coughed his low constant cough, even with the syrups and herbs they prepared for him. He wanted to marry Juliet, but Bertha told Juliet, “No. Just no.” But, he brought them money he earned at whatever he could find to do. He hunted and brought food. But, it wasn't much.

  Bertha kept working, Juliet kept weaving baskets, Cloud sold the baskets. Life went on, even as dreary as it was. Rose's death and Myine's absence stayed on Juliet's mind. Stayed on all their minds, but Juliet's in particular.

  As expected, Tonya came over to their little house ready to argue about the rent. “Ya jes gonna have to come up with some money! Things is tough, and I … we all need it.”

  Bertha said, “We don't have any money, Tonya. My husban jes died. It took all our money to bury him.”

  “Well ya jes gonna have to get some, or move on way from here and let somebody else have it that can pay.”

  Juliet spoke up in a regular tone. “Aunt Rose would not charge us for this house. My daddy built this house. We still take care of this land, and watch it for her.”

  “Then don't do it no mo! She ain't here no mo. Cause I will call the sher'ff and ya c'n get put out! I didn't want to make no trouble for nobody, but we done done all we can do!”

  As Juliet patted her sniffling mother's back, she turned her face to Tonya. She said, almost gently, with a faint, but distinct threat in her voice, “Yes, you can call the sheriff. We would love to go to court about everything. So many strange things been happening round here … since you came, that I would really want to find out what the sheriff would think about them. Healthy people dying; and young, strong children disappearing. Yes, the sheriff would probably be interested his own self.”

  Tonya narrowed her eyes at Juliet and Bertha. Bertha was a little frightened, but dare not show it. But Tonya was the most frightened. Juliet was not frightened at all. Tonya did not know how much these people knew, or what they had seen.

  She said, weakly, “Am nothin goin on round here. What ya talkin bout?” But she began to back away from their door, speaking in a different tone. “If ya ain't got the rent, ya ain't got it. But I'm tellin ya this can't keep up. I'll let ya stay for now, but ya betta think bout gettin some rent money.”

  When they were alone, Juliet told her mother, “I told you something was going on that didn't seem quite right to me. I believe they killed poor Rose. Poor Aunt Rose. Lord, please have mercy on her little child.”

  Every time Leroy brought Myine up, Tonya said, “We gonna go get her soon. We jes want to be sure everthin oka
y round here.” Or she would try to put her arms around him, asking, “We can get married now, da'ling. You ain't got a wife no mo, cept me. We don't need no big wedding or nothin.

  “We just sneak off one morning on ya day off, and get some preach'a to make us man and wife. Oh! Leroy! All the things ya wanted for us is here now.” Leroy looked at her as though she was crazy, and walked away, laughing, as he went out to get into his car.

  Tonya began to encourage Leroy to have a drink before he went to work. She would say, “to get ya ready for the day.” When he came home from work, she had a drink waiting for him, “for to relax ya afta a hard day. I know them people wor'y ya to death.” She had a glass of ice, and a bottle of liquor on the bedside table when he went to bed. “Hep ya sleep betta.”

  He knew, somewhere in his mind, what she was doing. He thought he was the strongest, but he wasn't really too sure in his mind. His mind was always a little fuzzy with liquor lately. “After all,” he would think, “Tonya loves me; look what she done done to get me.”

  It didn't take long, because he already had things he wanted to forget. He began to rely on liquor after the death of Rose. Tonya didn't really know why she kept him full of liquor; it just seemed like a wise thing to do. And it was something she could do. Her house was more peaceful when she didn't have to listen to him asking about Myine.

  So much fear at the thing they had done pressed on his mind and hers. But the police never did come with questions. So Tonya began to concentrate on Leroy's death. He was becoming a job; she always had to be careful, even with what she might say about Rose!

  Tonya did not want him to die in that house. “Be better all round if he pass on away at the hospital.”

  She wanted to move her daughters in the house with her; then she could stop paying rent on that shack. Her youngest, the baby, had already died. TeeTee, who was fourteen, already had two abortions. Dolly, who was sixteen, had one baby, Lola. Tonya finally felt they needed her help, and concern. “They might as well be here with me. I got this house now. We need to stop payin rent somewhere else.”

  Leroy was mostly drunk now, and he was about to lose his job. So Tonya told him she moved her daughters in to save money. He grunted, raised his hand, and waved it in a way he thought meant, “No, no.” She paid him no mind. If Leroy lost his job before he died, she would need her daughters to each get some kind of job.

  First, they fought over Tante's room upstairs. Dolly won because she had a baby. And the room was larger than the last empty room.

  Her daughters liked living in the large house. They talked excitedly. “It gonna be perfect for parties!” Rose and Leroy had had plumbing and electricity put in. TeeTee liked not going outside to the outhouse. “This house perfect for me, too!”

  Soon, even Leroy, half high all the time now, began to notice how the house was changing. Always dirty and greasy looking. Dirty clothes scattered everywhere. Dishes piled high in the sink. Pots and pans, greasy and burnt, sat on the stove until he washed them or got on Tonya about them. The young girls didn't know how to take care of a house.

  He did miss the neat house and appetizing table Rose had kept. His clothes even began to disappear, given to boyfriends, or the girls wore them themselves. Once the clothes were dirty, they were cast aside, it didn't matter where they fell, even in the middle of the hallway.

  One sober night he told Tonya, “Ya'll got to do better'n this! I ain't used to livin like this! I'm'a have to put ya'll out, if this keep up! My house was clean!”

  He shouldn't have done it, but he shook his finger in Tonya's face, saying, “I ain't gonna live like all this no mo. Ya'll got to do better'n this, or ya'll can go on back to ya own house! Them are cows ya got, they sho ain't no ladies! Ya'll are destroyin my house! This bout ain a house no more, not like Rose had it. It's a dump now!”

  Tonya's thoughts were a little confused. “He wou'n't put us out. He jes talkin.” Tonya loved that house. She felt like a Lady in that house. She had envied Rose for years. That house meant Tonya's world to her.

  She repeatedly thought to herself, “Never was nothin said bout Rose dyin. Didn't nobody ev'a say nothin bout polices. Nobody thought about why she die. Evabody knew she was always sick.”

  She poured herself a drink, and sat down to enjoy it as she continued thinking. “If he was mar'ied to Rose, then this his house now. He herited it from her cause he was married to her. Don't nobody know if he married to me now, or not. So if he die, I herit it from him. This be my house! My house!” She smiled to herself. “An I c'n leave that chile out there where she is at, cause ain't nobody ev'a gonna find her, an Ma and Pa Whipet ain't gonna tell nobody cause they needs somebody to do all that work for em.”

  Leroy's days became numbered. She didn't have all the poisons they used on Rose, but she thought she had enough for Leroy. “If I don't, they got rat poison, but I ain gonna use that; they looks for things like that. I seen it on TV.”

  Then she thought about the people on “her” land. Juliet and Bertha. “I ain't gonna bother em jes now, til this here house is all mine. Won't be long. I c'n wait. Then … they got to pay or go!”

  She did holler at her daughters about the mess in the house, but she didn't do much better than they did. Often they stole enough from her purse to get a six-pack for her so she would go to sleep, just like Tonya did for Leroy when he didn't have to work.

  The girls didn't care about the house, really. Not like their mother. And they hadn't been taught to think. So they only thought, “It jes a good ole place to get a party on, and slip all my boyfriends in.”

  Time passed, slowly, as Tonya began giving Leroy small doses of poison in his food. Slowly. Just to sicken him a little. Stop him from asking about Myine.

  Friends had warned Leroy about losing his job. He began to cut down on his drinking. He also began to look at Tonya through suspicious, narrowed eyes, suspecting her of having something to do with his constant illnesses. He didn't want her to sleep in the same bed with him any longer.

  She didn't want him to die too soon; she needed his money. She was saving the big dose to serve him one morning as he was leaving for work. “Let him die at work! So them people, not nobody, can't blame me.”

  She wanted to go get Myine to bring her home, but not for a good reason. She was thinking, “This house needs more work en I can do. And TeeTee and Dolly ain gonna never do no betta. I'm gonna have to put em out jes to keep my house clean.” As an afterthought, “Or I c'n make Bertha a maid in exchange for the rent.”

  In this way, a few years had passed.

  Myine's life was painfully sad. All work, starting at about 5:00 a.m. They had given her an alarm clock, so no one would have to wake up to wake her up. She started the fires in the kitchen, and pumped the water in. They could have had more modern conveniences, but they weren't looking to live much longer, so why waste the money?

  Myine had been at Mom's Cafe almost five years. She often looked out over the trees, trying to read the stars, wondering which way was home. When Tonya had brought her, she had driven many extra miles in different directions until the child had fallen into a deep sleep.

  She was only about fifty miles from Wideland. Myine wanted to run away, her life was so sad and desperate, but she did not know which way to run. The north star didn't mean anything to her sense of direction.

  She had no social, mental, or physical life. She was not allowed to go to school. School had been stopped, never thought of. “What ya need to go to school for? Ya already got a job!” They were not mean to her. Ma Whipet was even some ways kind. Pa Whipet, for his own reasons, did all the whipping that needed to be done.

  As Myine grew older, her little body blossomed, and you could see she was going to be a good-looking young woman. Pa Whipet liked to spank her by bending her body over his knees. He would spank her behind, then rub her behind. Spank and rub, spank and rub. He didn't hit her to really hurt her. He hit her for the chance to rub her buttocks; his shaking hand slipped lower each time
he rubbed. In time he let his fingers rub over the exposed private parts, but not too often, because Ma Whipet was there.

  Sometimes Myine heard creaking noises in the kitchen, behind which she slept. She grew used to that; she knew it was Pa Whipet sneaking in to steal the covers off her, and feel around her private parts, quickly. Thank God he was frightened of staying too long.

  She wanted to tell Ma Whipet, but Pa Whipet had whispered to her, “We bought ya, ya know. We can sell ya to some real mean men who would love to work ya to death, and do plenny more things to ya. If ya tell … Well, ya know what c'n happen to ya. Ya have a easy life here with us. Think bout that! Fore ya opens ya mouth bout anything!”

  Her little cot was in the supply room surrounded by boxes. She used one wooden box for little personal things she wanted to keep. Pretty rocks, lovely, colorful birds' feathers, a beautiful leaf, or a dead flower sat atop the box. Her clothes, the few she had, were kept inside the box.

  She looked longingly down the roads leading away from the cafe. She wanted to run away so deeply in her heart; she did not know which way to run. The Whipets kept her frightened as to what was out there in the world … waiting for her.

  So she worked each day the sun came up, and prayed each day to the God she had grown up knowing. “Please, God, oh, please, God. I want to go home, I want to see if my mother is still alive, and my father. And I'm tired, Lord. Lord, I am so tired. Help me, please, help me.”

  She cried, “Lord, Lord,” as she washed dishes, cleaned tables, learned to cook simple things. She cried, “Lord, Lord,” as she fell, exhausted, to sleep, jerking awake from deep tired sleep only when she heard unusual sounds from inside the supply room. She began to sleep with a knife under her pillow.

  In Wideland Leroy finally died, an angry frown twisted on his face, forever. He had known it was coming if Tonya continued staying at his house. But there was nothing he could do to get her to leave. When he died, he whispered in his brain, “Lord, what have I done? I had a good woman. Look what I got … now. Where my little child? What have I done?” But he knew what he had done. That hurt the most. It was all his own doing.