Sissy

by Madelyn Bennett Edwards

  I took my hands off the keys and put one on his thigh, the other in my lap. When I turned to face him, we were so close I could breathe in his exhales.

  "Please kiss me, then I'll know." I moved my face as close to him as I could without touching. He kissed me, long and hard, then he pulled back.

  "What will you know?" His words slid into my mouth, and I swallowed them.

  "How I feel about you. How you feel about me." I opened my eyes wide.

  "How could you not know. All these months…?"

  "Luke, I've never been in love. I don't think anyone has ever been in love with me. Let's just say I don't really know what love is." He pulled his head back and looked at me. "Come with me."

  He led me to the bar, poured himself another drink, and refilled my wine glass. I sat on a stool, and he stood in front of me, my knees between his long legs. He put his hands on my shoulders and stared at me as though he were looking for something behind my eyes, in my soul.

  "I happen to know that something is coming down the pike, something terrible for you, something that you will blame me for…that you should blame me for because I instigated it. You will hate me." Luke twisted his legs to the side so he could turn his body towards the bar and away from me. "It's better if we say goodbye now. The longer this goes on, the more hurt we will both be."

  He put his head in his hands, and I thought he was crying, although there were no sobs, no tears. Finally, after what seemed like a very long silence, he looked at me. "Would you mind driving me to my motel? I'm really tired, and I have a big day tomorrow."

  "If that's what you want." I was too bewildered to speak. We didn't talk all the way to the Ranch House, which was about a mile from my house. I parked in front of his room, put my car in park, and turned to look at him. His hand was on the door handle. "So, is this it? I mean, are we through?"

  "We have to be, Sissy." His expression was sad and tender at the same time. "Look, I'm crazy about you, but in a couple of weeks, maybe sooner, you'll understand why this had to end. You will hate me, and that will make it easier for you to forget we ever had this relationship, as wonderful as it's been." He kissed me on the cheek, got out of the car, and was behind the door that said #24 before I could catch my breath.

  *

  Luke called Rodney back to the stand Friday morning. Lilly sat between Susie and me while we listened to Rodney explain how he had seen Tucker Thevenot several times a week from the time he was in high school until he went off to the army.

  "I'd know him… anywhere," Rodney told Luke. "Keith Rousseau, too." He talked about how Tucker had terrorized black boys since they were in high school. He told about an incident when he and a friend, Milton Jones, were walking home after a football game and Keith and Tucker started chasing them in the truck. Rodney said he was faster than his friend, so he got to the end of the block, turned around, and saw Tucker throw a rope over Milton, and then Keith took off in his truck.

  "They dragged… Milton through… the ditch." Rodney said he backtracked as the truck was coming towards him and he had to jump in the ditch to keep from getting plowed over by Keith.

  I was horrified hearing the story, and I could tell it was the first time Susie and Lilly had heard it. There were tears streaming down Susie's face, and Lilly squeezed my arm so hard I thought she would bruise me.

  "And you are sure it was the defendant?" Luke asked Rodney.

  "Oh, yes." Rodney looked at Tucker but didn't change his expression. "I'm… sure."

  "So would you know Tucker Thevenot if you saw him anywhere?"

  "Without… a doubt."

  "When is the last time you saw him, the defendant?"

  "On my… wedding day… last year. June 30, 1984." Rodney did not stumble as he said the date, which was unusual because numbers tripped him up more often than words.

  "Tell the jury, once again, what you saw that day."

  "When we walked… out of the… uh, I saw… Keith's old blue… truck parked in… front of the church. I saw… Tucker clear as day. I… started moving to… cover Susie as soon as… I saw the truck… because, somewhere in my, uh… psyche I knew what… they were there for. Tucker pulled… a, uh, gun… out of the window."

  "And you're sure it was the defendant."

  "I'm certain." Rodney did not blink.

  "Major Thibault, are you angry with Tucker Thevenot?" Luke's voice lowered an octave and softened.

  "I'm so happy to… be alive, to be… uh, married to the… only girl I've ever… loved, to, uh… have the most… wonderful daughter… in the world. And, uh… I guess I… resigned myself… that people like… Tucker and Keith… can terrorize black folks and, uh… get away with it… in this… parish. But, yes… I'm… angry." He looked at Susie and Lilly and smiled. "But, uh… I learned… a long time ago that… un-forgiveness eats at the person who harbors it… not the one it's aimed at."

  Susie pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped the tears off her face. All fourteen jurors looked at Susie and Lilly, some smiling, some wiping away tears. Somehow, Luke had done his magic, and it was obvious that the jurors had forgotten that Rodney was black, Susie, white, and Lilly, mixed. It had been amazing to watch the transformation.

  Rodney testified until noon, then Perkins did his cross-examination in the afternoon. There wasn't much Perkins could do to trip Rodney up or make him change his testimony. Perkins finally gave up at about two thirty, and the prosecution rested.

  The judge decided to adjourn court early since it was Friday and it had been a long week. I was in my car headed to Baton Rouge before most of the people had filed out of the courtroom.

  *

  Miss Millie was thrilled to see me, as always. She stared at me over the rims of her cat-eyed glasses and didn't bother to ask what I wanted.

  "Is Mr. Morris in?"

  "Is he expecting you?" She barely opened the sliding glass window.

  "No, ma'am. But I really need to speak with him."

  She shut the window and picked up the phone. When she put the receiver down, she pointed her chin towards the sofa behind me, so I sat and waited for about thirty minutes. When I walked into Robert's office, he came around his desk, hugged me, and pointed to one of the chairs at the round table. His brow was furrowed, and his frown was pronounced as though worried.

  "What can I do for you, Sissy?"

  "Robert, there's something very wrong happening in Jean Ville and, as much as I hate to admit it, I believe my brother might be involved."

  "Wait! Do you have specific information? Let me get Sherman in here." He went to his desk and picked up the phone. "Oh, that's right. Well, have him and McMath come into my office as soon as they arrive."

  "I left Jean Ville before anyone else. The judge shut down the trial early today."

  "Millie said that Luke and Chris are on their way back now. Meanwhile, tell me what you know."

  For the next thirty minutes, I explained to Robert how, at first, I had believed that Thevenot and Rousseau were the ones who'd accosted me, but that I was wrong.

  "When they realized they were being followed by the state police, they passed the job off to Warren and Joey." I hugged my purse to my chest. Just thinking about that night made me feel sick in the stomach.

  "What does this have to do with your brother?" Robert asked me in a soft voice.

  "I went to the bar that Daniel Tyler runs. When I told him I was interested in who might have been in his bar the night I was accosted, he told me he remembered that night well, because Thevenot, Rousseau, Warren, and Joey LeBlanc were shooting pool together and they got really drunk." I explained to Robert that Daniel said he had to stop selling them beer and was worried when they left because they would be driving intoxicated.

  "Daniel said that Thevenot gave Warren a wad of money and that he overheard them talking about passing a job off. He said that Thevenot said, 'Her brother said to scare her. Make sure she understands that she needs to leave this whole
shooting thing alone.'" My throat was dry, and I felt squeamish, so I asked Robert for a glass of water. He called Miss Millie, and she appeared with a couple of glasses filled with water.

  Luke and Detective Sherman came in and sat down. Robert repeated everything I'd told him, and Chris Sherman asked me questions I didn't know the answers to. He stood up, shook hands with each of us, and left the room.

  *

  "Hey, you two want to follow me home and have a drink with Brenda and me?" Robert Morris looked from me to Luke. "She wants to meet you, Luke." We were both a bit shocked but nodded, and I rode with Luke to the house in Spanish Town.

  "Are you going to rat out your brother?" Luke was driving very slowly.

  "I'd rather not, but if I have to, I will."

  "What exactly do you think he did?"

  "I believe he paid someone to beat me up. Maybe he was the bag man, maybe he instigated it himself."

  "If he was the bag man, who would he have been working for?" Luke parked across the street from the Morrises’ house and turned towards me. His expression said, "Think about this carefully."

  "I'm not sure." I turned towards Luke with a jerk, but didn't say the words. I think he knew that I knew.

  "Warren and Joey probably went farther than they were supposed to because they were so drunk, but still!" I was suddenly angry, just thinking about my brother sending lunatics to beat me up. "Why would he want to protect Thevenot and Rousseau?" My mind couldn't go any further than the fact that my brother might have had me attacked. I couldn't wrap my brain around him having anything to do with the shooting. "This feels awfully sick to me."

  Luke nodded, and we were both quiet while all those thoughts ran through my mind. When he spoke, it brought me back to the present. "If this goes even deeper, I mean, if your family members are implicated in something very serious, will you hate me?"

  "If this is why you think I would hate you, you're wrong, Luke." I felt sad, but resigned. "I'm the one who started this investigation. If my brother is involved, that's not your fault. I want justice for Susie and Rodney. And for ME!" He squeezed my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek before we went into the house for dinner and drinks.

  I was quiet all evening. I felt sad and angry, and the combination was frightening. Luke was charming, and Brenda fell in love with him. After dinner, when they all pressed me to play the piano, I played All By Myself, by Eric Carmen and Diary by Bread, before Brenda asked me to play something more upbeat. All I could come up with was I've Gotta Get a Message to You, by the Bee Gees, which Brenda said wasn't very upbeat. Luke sat beside me on the bench and whispered, "Try Bennie and the Jets." I played the Elton John song, but couldn't bring myself to sing along with everyone. Then I got up from the piano and went to the bathroom. I knew I was putting a damper on the party, but my heart wasn't in it.

  Luke took me to my car, parked across from the AG's office.

  "Let me take you home, Sissy. I'll bring you back in the morning to get your car." He held my hand on the console.

  "I don't think so, Luke. I'd feel trapped without my car… just in case… I mean… what if…?" I tried to put into words how afraid I'd felt ever since I had been assaulted and raped. I didn't think he'd understand.

  "Okay, then let me follow you home and see you inside, safe and sound." He grinned at me, as though maybe he did understand.

  When we got to the house on Lee Circle, it was dark. He took my keys from me, unlocked the door, went inside, and turned on all the lights while I stood inside the front door and waited.

  "I looked under the beds, in the closets, on the back porch… no boogie men." He took both my hands in his.

  "I hate to be such a baby, but I've never stayed in this house at night alone." I trembled when I thought of him leaving. "Can you stay with me?"

  "Sissy, what you need is a bodyguard." He laughed, but there was something serious in that statement.

  "You're right. It's too much to ask of you." I felt my cheeks burn, and my eyes were wet with the beginning of tears that I held in check. "I don't know when I'll be ready to have an intimate relationship, Luke. I'm damaged goods, and I have nightmares about sex."

  "Rightfully so." He led me to my bedroom door by the hand. "Have you thought about getting some professional help?"

  "Yes. I'm going to, as soon as this trial is over."

  "That's enough for me." He kissed me on the mouth.

  "Does this mean we aren't breaking up?"

  "Not if you won't hate me if it turns out your family is implicated in a crime." He kissed me again.

  I wasn't sure how I would feel if my brother were arrested, but I knew I wouldn't blame Luke.

  "Goodnight, baby. Sleep well. I'll be in the next room if you need me." He walked down the hall to one of the guest rooms. He left his door open, so did I.

  *

  Monday morning, we were back in court.

  Several of Tucker's friends testified to his character, but they did not garner much respect. They were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, unshaven, dirt under their fingernails, filthy boots; and they talked as though they had no education whatsoever. It was almost laughable.

  They told what a great guy Tucker Thevenot was, a loyal friend, a solid citizen. Each of them spoke at length about what an excellent marksman Tucker was, "The best in the parish, maybe the state," said Barry Guillory, who worked for the state penal system but "had to go on disability last year."

  At four o'clock, John Perkins called Tucker Thevenot to the stand. Someone had cleaned him up, and he wore a starched white dress shirt, a solid navy tie that was too short, and cowboy boots that had been polished. His hair was clean but shaggy, and his goatee had been trimmed, yet his face still looked dirty.

  He sat slouched in the witness chair, his legs extended in front of him, ankles crossed. Perkins tried to motion to him to sit up straight, but Tucker didn't get the message. Perkins asked him what he did for a living, and he said he worked at Keith Rousseau's mechanic shop. Perkins asked if he was married and he said, no, but he had two kids, a boy and a girl, six and eight. Perkins asked if he paid child support and Thevenot squared his shoulder with pride and said, "Yep. Sure do."

  "Mr. Thevenot, do you hate black people?" Perkins had one hand on his hip, the other on the podium.

  "No, not really. I don't hate anyone I can think of. I'm a pretty fun-loving guy." He laughed at his own comment, but none of the jurors smiled.

  "Would you shoot an innocent man?"

  "Of course not." He slid down in the chair and put his hands behind his head, his elbows out to the side. The judge told him to sit up straight, and some of the jurors snickered.

  "Would you shoot a woman?"

  "Not a good woman." Thevenot laughed aloud, as though his comment was hilarious.

  "What about a white woman?"

  "No. I like women." He winked at Susie, which caused her to shiver. Rodney reached his hand over the side of the bench and took her hand in his. She looked at him, and he smiled and nodded as if to say, “It's alright, we're together, and that's all that counts.” She smiled and turned her attention to the witness.

  "What did you think about the testimony from the expert who said you aimed at Susie Burton's head and meant to shoot her between the eyes?"

  "I'm the best marksman in the parish, so if it had been me, and if I had aimed to put a bullet between her eyes, that's where it would have landed. In fact, it couldn't have been me who done it because they'd both be dead if it had been me." He slouched in his chair again, and the judge cleared his throat and motioned for Thevenot to sit up straight. "Anyway, no one proved it was me who shot that Mulatto she married.

  "Help me understand." Perkins stood to the side of the podium, as close to the witness chair as possible without getting the stop sign from DeYoung. "You and others have stated that you are a superb marksman, is that right?"

  "Yep. That's right. You heard it from some witnesses. I have a repu
tation."

  "So is it your testimony that you are such a good shot that you would not have missed, therefore it couldn't have been you?" Perkins was almost as perplexed as the rest of us. I later learned that he didn't want to put on a defense and hoped the prosecution hadn't convinced the jury, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Thevenot had been the shooter.

  "That's exactly what I'm saying." Thevenot sat up in the chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "If it was me shot that man, he'd be dead. And if I had meant to shoot that woman, which I would never shoot a woman, specially a beauty like her; well if I had meant to, she'd be dead, too."

  Perkins was done, and sat down heavily.

  *

  "Cross, Mr. McMath?"

  "Yes, Your Honor." Luke walked to the podium and put his legal pad down. "Have you ever shot a person?"

  "I'm not sure what you mean." Thevenot looked confused. "I never killed no one."

  "That's not what I asked, Mr. Thevenot. I asked you whether you ever shot a person with a gun." Luke put both his hands on the podium and leaned forward slightly.

  "Well, I don't really remember." Thevenot started to perspire and reached for his handkerchief to mop his forehead.

  "Maybe I can refresh your memory. There was testimony that you shot at a man's feet to make him dance and one of the bullets hit his ankle and crippled him. Do you remember that?"

  "Can't say as I do. If I was shooting at someone's feet to make him dance, I wouldn't have intended to hit him. And if one of those bullets hit him, it couldn't have been mine, cause I'm a perfect shot. If I weren't aiming for an ankle, it wouldn't get shot." He seemed satisfied with his answer and sat back in his chair again, more relaxed.

  "Mr. Thevenot, several people saw you in the truck with Keith Rousseau, and two of those witnesses actually saw you shoot the gun at Rodney and Susie Thibault."

  "Object, Your Honor. I'm waiting for a question." Perkins was on his feet.

  "Sustained." Judge DeYoung looked at Luke. "A question, Mr. McMath?"

  "Did you hear the testimony of people who claimed they saw you shoot Rodney Thibault?"