by Mary Monroe
Harrietta nodded. “Tell me about it. I never leave my three alone for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. It’s bad enough that the world is so full of devils these days looking for kids to corrupt, but most kids can find something destructive to get involved in on their own, if we don’t keep an eye on them. I hope you don’t mind, but when your mama came home to drop off your daughter and your sister was on her way out, I insisted that Charlotte come to my house to wait on you,” Harrietta told me, talking so fast I couldn’t interrupt her and excuse myself. I decided that if she didn’t shut up soon, I was going to have to interrupt her anyway. I didn’t want to keep Rhoda waiting too long. “I know I should have checked with you first. I got your cell phone number from your mama, and I tried to call you but you didn’t answer. Your sister said you probably wouldn’t mind. By the way, I introduced myself to Lillimae last week when I ran into her at the Grab and Go. We’ve chatted a few times these past few days at the corner supermarket, and we exchanged telephone numbers. She sure seems like a real nice lady.”
“I’m glad you’ve already met my sister. I’ve been too busy to introduce her around the neighborhood. I’m glad she’s here to spend some time with me, and help look after Daddy. He’s becoming a real serious piece of work,” I groaned. “Anyway, I appreciate you looking after my daughter. I hope she behaved herself and wasn’t too much trouble,” I said. “I just wish I could have checked with you first to see if it was all right for her to come over.”
“Oh pshaw!” Harrietta chuckled, waving her hand. “I was glad to have Charlotte’s company. She and my daughter Vivian are in the same class.”
“I know. Thank you again.” I squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder.
“I wasn’t no trouble, Mama. I could have stayed in this house by myself until you or Aunt Lillimae got back home. I am not a baby!” Charlotte snarled, padding across the floor toward the kitchen.
I shook my head and smiled at Harrietta. “Don’t mind her. She’s at that age,” I apologized.
“It’s nothing! It comes with the territory. I go through the same thing with my three,” Harrietta laughed, rolling her small, beady black eyes again.
Before I could excuse myself, Harrietta made herself comfortable on my couch. She immediately crossed her legs and kicked back like she was the host and I was the visitor! She seemed like a nice enough woman, but she also seemed kind of dense and presumptuous. I would never enter the house of somebody who I didn’t know that well and make myself as comfortable as Harrietta had just done. I didn’t even do that at Rhoda’s house or my mother’s house! I was standing in front of her with my car keys and my purse in plain view, and I kept glancing at my watch. Harrietta still couldn’t see that she had caught me on my way out.
Other than what she’d just shared with me, I didn’t know much about her background. She’d been a couple of grades behind me in high school and had lived on the opposite side of town. She had also been one of the “cool” kids back then, so she and I wouldn’t have traveled in the same circles anyway. She had married a detective a month after she graduated from high school in such a lavish church ceremony people had talked about it for months. Like me, she was somewhat stout and ordinary looking. Unlike a lot of the plus-sized women I knew, who had the nerve to wear clothes that they had no business wearing, she wore a loose-fitting denim skirt and a loose-fitting white silk blouse that camouflaged the thickness of her body. She seemed to really have her life together. But according to the gossip making the rounds in Claudette’s beauty shop, Harrietta’s life was just as complicated as some of the other women I knew. Her husband had left her with three young kids and run off with another woman a few months ago.
“I guess you know about my husband leaving me,” Harrietta continued, speaking in a voice so cold I was surprised that I didn’t see fog coming out of her mouth. “And I set fire to everything he didn’t take with him!” Her jaw started to twitch and her eyes suddenly looked empty, almost lifeless. Even though I didn’t know this woman that well yet, something told me that she was the kind of sister who maintained a shit/hit list that you didn’t want your name to land on. I could just picture her burning up her man’s belongings, or even throwing some acid into the faces of other victims on her shit/hit list. But just as suddenly as her demeanor had turned sinister, she softened again and offered me a smile that stretched from one side of her face to the other. “The Bates woman next door to me, she told me about how you chastised Pee Wee and Lizzie in your driveway the day he moved out. You and I have a lot in common. We don’t take nobody’s mess.” I had to smile and nod in agreement. Because it dawned on me that I had become the kind of woman who had a shit/hit list that nobody wanted to be on. I was now a lot like the females who had terrorized me throughout my school years. Age sure had a way of equalizing things.
I plopped down on the love seat facing Harrietta. “I heard something about you and your husband breaking up the last time I was at the beauty shop,” I admitted. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Well, don’t be sorry for me. Him and his whore deserve each other.” Harrietta smiled and blinked a few times, but I could still see the red-hot anger in her eyes. “I don’t miss him at all, or any other man for that matter. My man was no prize like your ex. He couldn’t screw worth a damn.”
CHAPTER 20
I GAVE HARRIETTA A CURIOUS LOOK. “EXCUSE ME?”
“Not that I know if yours could screw worth a damn either!” she laughed. “But he sure looks like he can... .”
“For the record, he is the best lover I ever had,” I reported with a smug look on my face. It was true. Pee Wee was the best lover I’d ever had, and that was one of the reasons I missed him so much. “Uh, I’ve been meaning to invite you over for coffee or something so we could get better acquainted. Other than Margaret Bookman at the end of the block, you are the only other black woman on this street close to my age. But we’ll have to get together at another time. I was just on my way out the door to go visit a friend who really needs to talk to me right now.” I rose and started to move toward the door.
Harrietta finally took the hint. She leaped up off my couch like a rabbit jumping out of a magician’s hat. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just barge up in here and get so comfortable,” she chirped, looking embarrassed. “Girl, I don’t know what the hell is the matter with me! I don’t know where my manners are!”
“That’s all right,” I said, quickly glancing at the door and my watch again.
“You can come by anytime, and I already gave Lillimae my phone number for you or her to call me when you want to. And in case you didn’t know, I provide child-care services. You ought to see how I decorated my patio for the kids,” Harrietta revealed.
I nodded. “The best friend that I’m about to go see, she has been running a day-care center in her home for several years now.”
“You mean Rhoda O’Toole? I know. I’ve run into her several times at the nail salon, at the mall, the Grab and Go, and Claudette’s beauty shop. But please tell me this, if you don’t mind, who does Rhoda’s hair weave? I bet it’s that white gay boy out on State Street. His work looks so natural.”
I gasped. “Rhoda does not wear a weave. That’s her real hair,” I said proudly.
“Damn. She’s hella lucky to have a head of hair like that. All that straight, shiny black hair looks like it belongs on an Indian woman. My grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee, but as you can see by all these naps on my head, having Indian blood didn’t do me a bit of good.” Harrietta moaned as she tossed her head to the side, raking her fingers through her short, brittle curls. “That’s why I own several wigs and hairpieces.”
“I usually wear my hair in braids,” I said, patting my two-week-old press and curl. “And by the way, for the record, my daddy has a lot of Indian blood too.”
Harrietta looked at my hair. A mild frown crossed her face. “Umph, umph, umph! Honey child, I can see that having Indian blood didn’t do you any good either, huh?
”
“I guess not. But Rhoda’s grandmother was a white woman. That’s where she gets her straight hair from.”
“So those great big green eyes of hers are probably natural, too, huh?”
I nodded.
“Black women who look like Rhoda usually think their shit don’t stink.” Harrietta laughed.
I shook my head. “Rhoda’s not conceited about her looks at all. She takes it all in stride. One night I waited for her to join me at the Red Rose for a drink. I was sitting alone at the bar. When she walked in, all of the men at the tables near the entrance clapped—blacks, whites, Hispanics, and even a few Asians. Rhoda didn’t even realize that they were clapping for her until I told her.”
Harrietta shook her head. “If I walked into the same place naked, the men would probably still ignore me.” For a brief moment, she looked so sad I felt sorry for her. “I don’t need a man anyway.”
I didn’t know how to respond to Harrietta’s last comment, so I took the conversation on a detour. “Uh, Rhoda loves taking care of those preschoolers,” I said.
“I like the itty-bitty ones too. They sleep a lot during the day. However, I prefer them to be at least eight, or older. Kids that age don’t require as much attention as the toddlers. But since the money is so damn good, I’ll take them at any age.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Harrietta. My daughter still needs to be supervised. So from time to time, I need somebody to keep an eye on her.”
“I’ll tell you what, if you’ll scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. I’ll look after your daughter for free when you need it, if you’ll keep an eye on mine for free when I need to take a break.”
“That’s fine with me. Sounds like a good plan. But my parents are usually available. And as long as I have my sister from Florida with me, I don’t think I’ll need to bother you that often.”
I was disappointed, and becoming even more impatient by the second, when Harrietta sat back down. She crossed her legs again and unbuttoned the top button on her blouse. Then she suddenly gave me an anxious look. “I hope I don’t sound too nosy, but is Lillimae your blood sister, or are y’all foster sisters, stepsisters, or play sisters?”
“We have the same biological father, but her mother was white.”
“Oh. I figured it was something like that, because y’all do look like blood relatives.”
“Harrietta, I really do have to leave right now,” I said in a firm voice. I rushed to the door and held it open. I was not giving her a choice; she had to leave now. “I hope you’ll visit again soon when I have more time.” I liked this woman and I wanted to be friends with her, but a pushy new friend was one thing that I didn’t need and was not going to tolerate this late in life. I had to nip this in the bud now. “As you can see, I was on my way out the door when you came.” I raised my hand and dangled my car keys.
A contrite look crossed Harrietta’s face. “Girl, I’m so dense. I’m just so tickled to be living on Reed Street, I don’t know what to do with myself. I was raised right. I sure enough hope you don’t think I’m always this rude!”
“That’s all right.” I opened the door wider.
“I need to get my ashy black ass on back home before my kids burn down the house.” Harrietta shot up off the couch like a rabbit again. She was very agile for a woman who weighed over two hundred pounds. “Are you going to take your daughter with you now?” she asked, as she approached the door. She stopped and glanced around the room, then toward the kitchen where Charlotte had fled to.
“Oh! Um, no, I don’t want to,” I admitted. “I need to discuss a subject with Rhoda that is kind of sensitive. I don’t want my daughter to hear any of it. You know how it is when kids hear something they shouldn’t hear, and how they like to make a case out of it. My daughter has ears like a basset hound. And she loves to run off at the mouth about what she heard or saw some grown person do. I guess I’ll have to take her with me anyway.”
“Oh, girl, you don’t have to do that.” Harrietta grinned. “I got your back now,” she added, slapping a hand on her hip and rotating her neck. “You go on and visit with Rhoda. I’ll take Charlotte back to my house with me. She’ll be in good hands. I’ll send her back home as soon as I see either you or your sister return.”
I sighed with relief. I didn’t want Charlotte anywhere near Rhoda’s house because I had no idea how things were going to go when I got back over there. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I really do appreciate you offering to look after her for a little while.”
“Girl, if I minded, I wouldn’t have offered.”
“Thank you so much! I owe you one.”
After I checked on Charlotte and told her that she had to stay with Harrietta, I had to spend a few moments arguing with her.
“I don’t like that lady, Mama. She’s not normal,” Charlotte complained. She stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open, nibbling on a cold chicken leg.
“Well, you’d better learn to like her, because you are going to be spending a lot more time at her house. Now get back out to that living room and thank that nice woman for offering to look after your rusty behind.”
Charlotte stomped back into the living room behind me, grumbling under her breath all the way.
I waited in my car until I saw Harrietta lead my daughter into her house, holding her by the hand.
CHAPTER 21
RHODA DIDN’T LIVE THAT FAR FROM ME. I COULD HAVE MADE IT to her house in a matter of minutes if I had taken my usual route. But I didn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I drove two miles out of my way just so I could drive past Lizzie’s apartment again.
There were so many “ifs” going through my head as I drove down one street after another. If I was going to continue working on getting back with Pee Wee, I needed to get used to the fact that Lizzie was going to be in our lives again. If it was going to bother me in the future as much as it did now, I needed to know so I could figure out how I was going to deal with it. If Pee Wee decided to resume his relationship with her, the sooner I knew that the better.
Lizzie lived in a predominately black and Hispanic area with Peabo in a huge red brick building on a street where I wouldn’t walk a dog that I didn’t like. The projects in Richland’s low-rent district didn’t look as shabby as this neighborhood. The apartment buildings, especially the one that Lizzie lived in, and the houses on both sides of the street all needed some serious maintenance work. I had never seen so much despair. There were dozens of windows covered with cardboard. There were broken-down old cars parked in the driveways and on the street. Young kids with dirty faces, snotty noses, and hair that looked like it had not been combed in weeks were roaming around like stray dogs. Used Pampers had been strewn around the ground like fertilizer. Males and females of all ages who occupied the corners looked like they wanted to cuss out the world. I always kept the windows on my car rolled up, but I made sure that all of the doors were locked too.
I couldn’t figure out what had made Lizzie choose a lowlife creep like Peabo over a man like Pee Wee. Peabo was involved in a variety of criminal pastimes, even though he also had a respectable job driving the school bus for Richland’s mentally handicapped kids. Another thing that I couldn’t figure out was why he lived in such an undesirable neighborhood when he could easily afford something much better and safer. I answered my own question: Peabo lived in such a sorry neighborhood because the cops rarely bothered to patrol this part of town. It was a thug’s paradise. People got robbed, shot at, cut up, beaten, and even killed over here on a regular basis.
I was happy to see that Pee Wee’s car was gone from Lizzie’s driveway.
I was glad when I made it back to my regular route and into Rhoda’s neighborhood. As soon as I turned the corner onto her street, I saw her standing in her doorway with the front door standing wide open. This time I parked right in front of her house. She was so anxious to see me, she sprinted out to the car before I could even get out.
“I thought y
ou’d never get here,” she started, leading me into the house with her arm around my shoulder.
“Harrietta Jameson, my new neighbor, held me up for a few minutes,” I explained. I looked around the living room, holding my breath. “Where’s Jade?” I asked in a whisper.
Before Rhoda could answer my question, Jade slunk into the room. As soon as she saw me, she frowned. She wore a red see-through negligee, which seemed like an odd item of clothing for a woman who had just been “molested.” She didn’t have on a bra, so I could see the perky breasts that she liked to show off every chance she got. I was pleased to see that she had on a pair of panties. They were not the practical, loose-fitting cotton type that you would expect to see on a woman experiencing a urinary tract infection. They were a thong, and because of the amount of flesh that I could see, they had to be at least two sizes too small.
“What are you doing here?” Jade hollered with a grimace on her face. She looked me up and down with her brows furrowed and her eyes blazing with hostility.
“Jade, Annette was here when ... when Bully ... you know. She might have heard somethin’,” Rhoda offered, giving her daughter a warm look as she gently rubbed her arm. “I want to get to the bottom of this situation as soon as possible.” Jade looked like she had just smelled a rat. Her reaction must have puzzled Rhoda, because Rhoda let out a very loud gasp and moved a few feet away from Jade. Then she folded her arms and looked straight into Jade’s eyes. “All right, baby?”
Jade’s face froze. She looked as stiff as a telephone pole. “Huh? Heard something like what?” she asked through clenched teeth as she looked from me to Rhoda. The grimace on Jade’s face had been replaced with a look of fear.
I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. I sucked in some air and gave Jade a defiant look. “I was in the hallway when you were in the kitchen with Bully,” I began. I turned to Rhoda. “I had left my car keys on your coffee table. I didn’t knock when I came back into the house. I retrieved my keys, but I needed to use the bathroom before I left. I had to walk past the kitchen doorway... .”