The Honey Well

by Gloria Mallette

  “Sweetie, you did yourself proud,” Esther said, sitting on the sofa. “Woody was very pleased. He gushed all over himself about you. Not to mention the fact that he paid double the fee for you. I’d say you’ve done yourself real proud. He wants to see you again.”

  Cringing in the pit of her stomach, Arnell slowly shook her head.

  “Oh, not to worry, sweetie. No time soon. Woody will be away on business until the end of the month. He wants to see you the last Friday in June. That’s three weeks.”

  Again, Arnell shook her head.

  “Oh, come on, Arnell. It couldn’t’ve been that bad. The man wasn’t up here that long.”

  He was up here long enough to rape me.

  “Hell, he didn’t have time to smoke a cigarette. Arnell, how much easier could that have been for you? The man left happy. You really oughta be happy, too—you still got it. A girl could get rusty laying off the job. See, I think you should—”

  “Shut up!”

  Stunned, Esther stared at Arnell.

  “Just shut up,” Arnell said softly. She really hated her life. The tears came again.

  “Well, I be damned,” Esther said. “Arnell, what the hell are you crying for? I just can’t figure you out. This was the perfect job for you. Why are you crying?”

  “He raped me!” Esther and Arnell locked eyes. “He raped me,” she said again.

  Esther looked around the room. Nothing was out of place. She studied Arnell’s face. There were no bruises. “You look fine.”

  “Don’t you believe what I’m telling you? That bastard raped me! He treated me like I was a guinea pig, like he could do anything he wanted to me and I had no say.”

  “But . . . sweetie . . . did he hurt you?”

  “Yes! He hurt me. He almost broke my damn back!”

  Esther considered the way Arnell was sitting. She wasn’t sitting stiff or ramrod straight as if her back was hurting, and she was moving her head and neck just fine. “Sweetie, do you wanna go to the doctor?”

  “No, I do not want to go to the doctor! Mother, the man shamed me. I hate myself, but I hate you more. Do you understand that, Mother? I hate you.”

  “You need to calm down, Arnell. You’re too upset.”

  “Well, excuse the hell out of me for being so upset!”

  “I just meant—”

  “I hate you for making me come here tonight!”

  Esther saw the look of scorn in Arnell’s eyes. She had never seen that dreadful look so clearly before. She needed a drink. She went to the bar. As she reached for a glass, she saw the stack of one hundred-dollar bills. She counted them.

  “I see Mr. Woodruff Parker is a very generous man.”

  “He’s a goddamn rapist. What he did to me, he could have done to a dog.”

  Esther lay the bills back on the bar. “In a way, dear, all men are rapists.” Esther poured herself a shot of brandy.

  “How can you say such a thing?”

  “Because I know what I’m talking about. Arnell, did I ever tell you about my Uncle Kevin?”

  “I’ve never met the man, so I don’t give a damn about—”

  “Now, sweetie, hear me out. You might find this interesting.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Everyone called Uncle Kevin, Slick. And believe you me, he was that and more.” Esther sat again on the sofa.

  “Slick was my father’s youngest brother. You never met him because he was in jail by the time you were two. I suppose he’s dead by now. I never heard from him or about him after he went to jail. For all I know, he’s been dancing with the devil for years.”

  Arnell wanted to scream. “What the hell does your jailbird uncle have to do with what just happened to me? Are you so damn cold that you don’t understand that I’ve been raped?”

  Esther raised the snifter to her nose. She inhaled the strong nutty flavor of the brandy. Brandy wasn’t her drink. It was too strong. She could never drink enough to get her head where she wanted it to be. When she was relaxing, a dry sherry was her preference. When she was partying, when she was fired up, a gin straight up was her poison. She could use a shot of gin right now, but it was a waste to break the seal on an unopened bottle in the suite when there was no client to appreciate it. Not to mention that Arnell wouldn’t share the bottle with her. Arnell never drank anything stronger than flat ass white wine.

  “I want out,” Arnell declared, standing. “I’m getting dressed. I’m not ever coming back here.”

  Esther changed her mind about drinking the brandy. She held onto it. “Arnell, I do understand rape.”

  “You could have fooled me.” Arnell started for the bedroom.

  “I was raped,” Esther said quickly.

  Arnell stopped. Although skeptical, she turned back. “You’d say anything to—”

  “I was.”

  “Yeah? When?”

  “When I was a child. Slick raped me.”

  That Arnell didn’t believe. “What are you talking about? Slick was your uncle . . . my granduncle.”

  “Family ties mean nothing to a rapist, Arnell. Slick was a man before he was my uncle. I was eleven when he raped me.”

  Arnell narrowed her gaze skeptically.

  “As God is my witness.” Briefly, Esther held up her right hand. “I was home alone. I let him in, he was no stranger, he was my uncle. He raped me. It’s as simple as that.”

  “What the hell is simple about rape?”

  “It’s simple if you accept that certain ugly things are going to happen to a woman, and rape is one of them.”

  Disagreeing, Arnell shook her head. “Rape is something that should never happen to any woman.”

  “Says you, but you’ve never been a realist, Arnell.”

  “Says you.”

  “And who would know better? Look, this is nothing for us to argue about. As long as there are men on this earth, women will be raped. I was raped. Yes, my rapist was my uncle and maybe it shouldn’t have happened, but it did. I let my uncle into the house when I had been told to not open the door to anyone. So in a way, the first time he raped me, I brought it on myself. He was—”

  “The first time?”

  “It happened twice more when Slick caught me alone.”

  Feeling sick to her stomach, Arnell sat again. She was blown away. “He raped you three times?”

  Esther nodded. “The first time, he messed up my face something awful. I looked like a monster.”

  “Mother, if he messed up your face, your parents had to have noticed. You told them, didn’t you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why the hell not? How did you explain your bruises?”

  “I told them I was in a fight.”

  “Are you crazy? You should have told your father. He would have killed Slick.”

  “Arnell, I never told anyone. I kept my dirty little secret to myself.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Uncle Matt? He would have helped you.”

  “Are you serious?” Esther sucked her teeth. “Shoot. Big brother Matt was born a punk. He was a wimp then, and I guarantee you, he’s a wimp now.”

  “You haven’t seen your brother in almost twenty years. You don’t know how he is.”

  “I don’t have to see Matt to know what I know.”

  “God forbid that you should be wrong.”

  “Arnell, I grew up with Matt. You only saw him twice in your life and the first time you wouldn’t remember because you were only three. You didn’t see him again until you were fifteen. You were never in his company long enough to shit out a good meal.”

  “That’s because you kept him away. I never got a chance to get to know him. Your parents were already dead by the time I was born. I should have been able to have a relationship with your brother and his kids, my cousins.”

  “Well, I disagree. You were better off not knowing Matt. He was such a punk.”

  What Esther wasn’t telling Arnell was that Matt had an annoying habit of pointing the finger of condemnati
on at her. Whenever she did anything at all that he thought was wrong, he’d lecture her like their father used to do.

  “When we were kids, Matt was scared to go trick-or-treating—everything scared him. He use to get beat up in the school yard all through elementary and junior high school. Hell, if I had told him what Slick had done to me, he would have hid from Slick just in case Slick had ideas about touching him up.”

  “Was Slick into boys, too?”

  “I don’t know anything about what Slick was doing to other people, I had my own worries.”

  “I’m sure you did, but I still say that you should have told someone.”

  “Well, I didn’t, okay? Back then, no one would have believed me. In fact, Slick convinced me that my parents would never believe me over him. He was an adult—my uncle, for God sake. I was a child.”

  “Oh, come on, Esther, you didn’t buy that.”

  About now, the brandy was inviting. Esther turned the snifter up to her lips and eased her head back. She downed the shot without letting much of it touch her tongue. The brandy opened up her sinuses. She batted her eyes.

  Arnell didn’t know if she should believe Esther or not. But why would she lie? Esther had nothing to gain by lying—or did she?

  “Esther, what’s the real reason you didn’t tell?”

  Seven

  Esther set the empty glass on the coffee table. “Let me enlighten you, sweetie. In my day, a child stayed in a child’s place. A child never disputed an adult. And mind you, what also made me keep my mouth shut about the rape was my own fault. I’ve told you before, I was no angel. The first time Slick raped me, earlier in that week, I had gotten into trouble in school for stealing a girl’s cheap ass plastic bracelet. I lied about stealing it, and got caught with it when the teacher searched everyone’s desk.”

  “Damn. You were stupid.”

  Esther chuckled. “For a little while, anyway.” In that dry chuckle, Arnell could hear her mother’s pain. “How come you never told me this story before?”

  “Well, it’s not the kind of story a woman likes to talk about over tea and biscuits, especially with her daughter.”

  “Are you kidding? After the life I’ve had with you, that’s a story you should have told me instead of prostituting me.”

  “Don’t start that again, Arnell. And why should I have told you something like that? So you can feel sorry for me? Don’t. Pity is a wasted sentiment. Besides, shit happens to the best of people.”

  “What was I thinking?” Arnell asked, annoyed. “I forgot to whom I was speaking—a woman who thinks that rape is a daughter’s legacy.”

  “I’m just facing an ugly fact of life. I believe what I believe and nothing can change that.”

  “If that’s the case, Mother, I can’t begin to understand why you would ever be a mother to a daughter, or to a son for that matter?”

  Esther chuckled sourly. “Sweetie, life plays tricks on all of us. I had you. No regrets. I love you more than I love myself.”

  “Yeah, right.” That was the biggest lie Arnell had heard all night.

  “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. And I know you might not agree, Arnell, but I didn’t tell you about being raped because I want my past to remain just that, my past. I’ve lived it, I’ve put it behind me. I’d be lying if I said that at the time of the rape I wasn’t traumatized, but I learned early in life that what happened to me wasn’t that unique.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Esther, you are my mother. Whatever happened to you, good or bad, is unique to me. If you don’t understand that, then I need to stop bashing my head against the wall trying to make you understand me. It’s too tiring.”

  “I think that’s probably for the best.”

  “Fine. So, in the end, what happened to Slick?”

  “Let’s just say, I got my satisfaction.”

  Arnell knew perfectly well what that possibly meant, but she asked anyway, “So he didn’t get away with raping you?”

  “Oh, at the time, he thought he did,” Esther said, crossing her legs. “Actually, I let him think he had gotten away with it. But you know your mother, don’t you, sweetie? I learned early how to bide my time. I don’t let anyone get over—”

  “Esther, stop beating around the bush. What did you do?”

  A low rumble of a laugh rose from Esther’s throat.

  It was that throaty laugh that chilled Arnell. She remembered Esther laughing like that when one of her clients refused to pay after having partied for four hours with two girls, and guzzling bottles of expensive liquor. By the time Big Walt hemmed the guy up against the wall and Esther got a vicious claw lock on his balls, the guy couldn’t rattle off the names and telephone numbers of his employer, his wife, and his parents fast enough.

  While Esther had the guy’s balls, she remarked, “This might be The Honey Well, baby, but stinging bees make up this hive and I am the queen bee—Queen Esther, to be exact, and my sting is vicious. Don’t fuck with my money.”

  Esther not only got paid in full, she got a shipment of top sirloin and a boatload of shrimp and lobster tails—all free. That was one client who never patronized the mansion again. The funny thing is, Esther had laughed then also.

  “Would you please tell me what the hell you did?” Arnell asked impatiently.

  “Damn, you’re like a pit bull. If you must know, some years later, when I was about thirty or so, I scored two kilo of uncut cocaine along with some other dubious paraphernalia and I—”

  “You set him up?”

  Esther leveled a calm damn right look on Arnell.

  “Where did you get the money to make a score like that? When I was a kid, you were always broke.”

  “By the time you were three, things changed.”

  “But what did it change from?”

  “Suffice it to say that I once knew a fella who had lots of money.”

  “Another secret? That fella is someone you’ve never spoken about. Who was he?”

  The devilishly handsome young face of Kesley Hayden flashed before Esther’s eyes. She could almost see the jet black curls that she loved to play with framing his face like each had been individually placed. She closed her eyes and imagined she felt his succulent lips on hers.

  “Look at you,” Arnell said, amazed at the dreamlike look on Esther’s face. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you? Tell me about him.”

  Esther opened her eyes. “My past, remember?”

  “Mother, who was he?”

  “Leave it alone, Arnell.”

  “I don’t get this,” Arnell said. “You once told me that no man was worth protecting, and that’s what you’re doing by not telling me about him.”

  “For all you know, smarty, I could be protecting myself. But I’ll tell you his name—he’s probably dead by now anyway. It’s been almost thirty years since I heard anything about him. His name was Kesley Hayden and he was a mistake. My mistake,” Esther said. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “Did you know this Kesley Hayden before you met my father or afterward?”

  “Leave this one alone, Arnell. Trust me, you don’t want to know about that part of my life.”

  “Could it be any worse than this part of your life?”

  “Sweetie, things can always be worse.”

  “But damn, Mother, was your past that bad? Besides Slick, is there something more?”

  “There is always more, Arnell, but my past, no matter how bad, is responsible for who I am today. I have no problem with who I am—I like me, but some things are best left in the past.”

  “Like what?”

  “I said, leave it alone.” For a second, Esther felt as she did when she had to reprimand Arnell when she was a child. “Damn, you’re stubborn. All you need to know is that by the time I was twenty-two, I knew more than some fifty year olds. Like I said, I was no angel, and, yes, I had my connections, which I won’t go into, so don’t ask. Suffice it to say, a friend got the stuff for me. I got a
couple of guns, I planted everything under Slick’s bed while he was asleep, and then called the cops. In court, he cried like a baby, just like I did when he raped me. He was a three-time loser, so he got twenty years.” Esther shrugged casually. “Just desserts.”

  “Did he know that it was you that set him up?”

  “Hell, if he didn’t, he was stupid. When they were taking him away after the sentencing, I got as close to him as I could. I shouted, ‘Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it, Uncle?’ Slick looked at me like I had shot him between the eyes.”

  Ever so slightly shaking her head, Arnell almost felt sorry for Slick. He was a rapist so he would never get her sympathy, but he sure as hell was stupid if he didn’t know that one day there would be a reckoning for raping Esther.

  “I know you’re not feeling sorry for the bastard,” Esther said.

  “Do I look like I’m feeling sorry for him?”

  “Just making sure. Slick raped me for a minute of satisfaction, I got him back for a lifetime of satisfaction. You know how I feel about getting—”

  “I know—your satisfaction,” Arnell said, finishing Esther’s sentence.

  “That’s right. I can’t sleep until any debt owed me is paid.”

  Arnell felt like a train had rolled over her—she felt crushed. Esther never ceased to amaze and shock her. What would she not do to get even? Esther was her mother, the queen of all nightmare mothers. Hell, why didn’t someone just drop her ass out a window when she was born? She was already doomed. A rapist for an uncle, a coldhearted, conniving, manipulative shrew for a mother. Arnell never had a chance.

  “I need a real drink,” Esther said, going back to the bar. She tore the seal from the bottle of gin. “Sweetie, can I get you a glass of wine?”

  Wine would mellow her out but Arnell didn’t want to feel mellow. She wanted to feel the anger that was hers to savor. Her anger was going to help her find a way out.

  Esther poured herself a stiff drink. Again, she sat. The gin hit the spot.

  “Look, Arnell, I told you about Slick raping me so that you would know that you are not alone. True, I was a child. I couldn’t defend myself. I don’t think I need to tell you that what Woody did was different.”

  Arnell raised her brow. “I know you’re not serious. That man—”