by Emery, Lynn
“A lot of women have made mistakes with men, Mama.” Monette gazed off into the distance.
“Yeah, you’re right. We all do the best we can with what we know at the time.” Annabelle searched the small yellow purse that matched her sandals and the daisies in her blouse. She took a cigarette out of a pack and lit it.
“So how long you and Waylon been ‘friends’?” Monette glanced at her.
“About two months. He’s a nice enough guy. He even picks up his own tab once in a while.” Annabelle tried to laugh but coughed instead.
Monette patted her on the back. She noticed the pinched look around Annabelle’s mouth for the first time. “You okay?”
Annabelle took a peppermint candy from her purse, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. She shook her head after a few moments. “I’m fine. Like I said, Waylon is fun most days.”
“You like ’em younger than you now, huh?” Monette could always get to the real deal with Annabelle, even if they ended up not speaking for days.
“All I want from an old man is directions to where the young man hangs out. Them senior citizen men just out here lookin’ for a nurse and a purse anyway,” Annabelle replied, waving a hand in the air.
Monette laughed hard. Her mother was a lot of things, but she had a wicked sense of humor. “Guess I’m about to find that out myself.”
Annabelle gave Monette a playful slap on the shoulder. “Girl, please. Don’t go round actin’ old. Folks gonna start figurin’ out my age next.”
“Yeah, and we both know you’ve been thirty-nine for the last twenty years,” Monette teased.
“Damn right. I’m blessed with young-lookin’ kids. You could pass for thirty-two easy. Remember that time I made you and Rita pretend y’all was still in high school when I hooked up with Guy?” Annabelle shook her head. “That fool believed it for five years.”
“He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, that’s for sure.” Monette leaned toward her and pointed a forefinger at Annabelle’s nose. “Shame on you telling him we kept failing. Lucky for you he lived over in Plaquemine. You used to really pick ’em.”
“Hey, I met some nice dudes at The Spot” Annabelle protested with mock indignation.
“That juke joint was located in a scenic little town called Tombstone, Mama. That alone should have been a sign it wasn’t the best place to find husband material.” Annabelle took a pull on her cigarette. She chuckled as she exhaled a stream of smoke. “Yeah. I wasn’t known for havin’ much sense when it came to men.”
“Something I inherited,” Monette quipped. Her amusement soured when she thought of her children. “But at least you raised your kids.”
Her mother continued to smoke for a time. Tense silence stretched between them. Finally Annabelle dropped the cigarette and crushed it with the heel of her shoe. “Look, don’t be beatin’ yourself up over stuff you can’t change.” “Move on like you. Thanks for that bit of advice,” Monette said, then pressed her lips closed.
“I put clothes on your backs and food on the table. No reason I couldn’t have some fun, too.” Annabelle stabbed a forefinger in the air as she made a point. “And that stuff with Charlie, well, when I found out what he’d done to you, I threw him out. To hell with callin’ the police. Had my brother and uncles whip his ass good. Bet he thought long and hard ’bout touchin’ some other woman’s child.” Monette shivered at her blunt discussion of “what he’d done.” Charlie Givens had been one of Annabelle’s three live-in lovers. He’d raped Monette when she was only nine years old. Even so many years later, Monette still had an occasional nightmare about that rainy afternoon.
“Thanks for the gesture.” Monette shifted on the bench. “Look, I’m not trying to blame you for every dumb mistake I’ve made. I picked some real thugs and knew better. What happened to me almost happened to Talia when she was fourteen. Because of me bringing a no-good bum into my house.”
“What?” Annabelle’s mouth dropped open. “Who touched that girl?”
“Earl.” Monette closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
“So that’s why he ended up dead. He had it comin’,” Annabelle spat out.
“Mama, if you recall, I didn’t kill Earl. Winn’s investigator finished him off. Then Winn punished me for cheating on him with Earl. I don’t have room to criticize your lifestyle.” Monette wished she smoked at times like these.
Annabelle fluttered her fingers in dismissal. “You did the best you could with what you had. Just remember that. We both came up hard. I could be mad at my mama and daddy, but that wouldn’t make sense.”
“Maybe you should give this speech to Talia.” Monette grimaced at the thought of her oldest daughter.
“I would if Miz Uppity ever called me. Got that big-time life up in D.C. and don’t think about nobody but herself.” Annabelle pulled out the pack and lit another cigarette.
“She’s been hurt. I did most of the damage with the way I was living back in the day,” Monette replied.
“Who ain’t been hurt? That girl needs to stop holdin’ grudges. You made mistakes, but at least you take care of your own.”
‘Talia doesn’t owe me or any of us a thing, Mama. I’m glad she and Derrick are successful. At least she’s done better than me.” Monette tried to convince herself that Talia’s happiness mattered most of all. Yet she still had that familiar hollow sensation when she thought of Talia.
“Yeah, well, you ain’t doin’ too bad at all. Thank the Lord strugglin’ along with too many bills and not enough cash is over for you. Poor Rita got it rough, though. Them kids of hers keep her nerves bad.” Annabelle glanced at Monette sideways. “I can’t help her much. A few dollars here and there.”
Monette let out a grunt that expressed her scorn. “Rita is always a dollar short of taking care of herself. She should stop getting those fancy two-inch acrylic fingernails with rhinestones every two weeks. That oughta save her fifty bucks a month. Oh, and while you’re at it, tell her to cut back on paying her man’s bills.”
“Rita ain’t perfect, but you can’t throw stones. You got nerve lookin’ down on your own sister,” Annabelle snapped back.
“I wouldn’t have to look down if Rita did something to pull herself up. She’s always got an excuse—with help from you,” Monette replied. She faced her mother’s scalding gaze without flinching. “You need to quit bailing those kids of hers out of trouble.”
“I helped you out a few times. Remember?” Annabelle stabbed a finger at Monette’s nose.
“Yeah, a few is right,” Monette muttered.
“As many times as you got into trouble I did all I could. I didn’t make enough money to spend it all on you. I was sweatin’ for minimum wage, and where was you? Out runnin’ the streets instead of goin’ to school, that’s where,” Annabelle shouted.
Monette rubbed her forehead and wondered how they’d slipped back into an old pattern so quickly. Arguments laced with bitter accusations were their version of a family reunion. “You’re right. I screwed up all by myself back then. We all did.”
“I tried my best,” Annabelle said again.
“Yeah, you did.” Monette looked off into the distance. Mentioning the parade of men Annabelle had brought into the house or her drinking would be pointless. Her mother would never see anything in the past as her own fault.
“Okay, so Rita and the others ain’t got as much as you, but that’s no reason to throw them away,” Annabelle said. “Look, if you can’t spare the money, just say so. I’m not gonna be on my knees. I’m just your mother is all, and I’m askin’, not beggin’.” Annabelle huffed in anger and crossed her arms.
Monette gave in because it was easier. “I don’t have any cash on me, Mama. I’d have to go by the bank.”
“If you’re sure. Like I said, we’re not comin’ hat in hand every time we need. Family oughta stick together.” Annabelle looked at her.
“It’s okay. But I’d have to go to my bank soon because it closes at noon on Satu
rday,” Monette said.
“I’ll call Waylon right now. We appreciate it, sugar.” Annabelle chattered on happily now that her true mission had been accomplished. She stopped long enough to call Waylon on her cell phone.
Monette wished she could believe that Annabelle had come to see her, but she knew better. Annabelle hadn’t been the worst mother in the world. She was simply self-absorbed in a way that left Monette feeling forgotten. Monette’s three sisters were no different Family sentiment aside, Annabelle and the others had probably calculated how much they thought Monette should help them.
“He’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. I saw a little store down the street. Let’s walk and get me some cigarettes. By the time we make it back, Waylon should be waiting.” Annabelle stood.
“Sure.” Monette patted her pants pocket and felt the debit card. She knew Annabelle would expect to get a carton as a gift.
Her mother had timed their arrival back at New Beginnings just right. Waylon sat outside in his dark red Ford Explorer with the engine running. He drove them to a branch of Monette’s bank. Annabelle had him park, and she followed Monette inside.
“If you can spare six hundred that would hold us over,” Annabelle said in an even tone, as though that much was nothing for Monette.
“Six hundred?” Monette stopped and put both hands on her hips.
“We need two hundred to fix my car. That’s our only transportation. Then Rita’s got some bills and I—”
“Never mind.” Monette did not want to hear the details. She strode into the bank, withdrew the cash, and handed it to Annabelle.
“Wait a minute,” Annabelle said. She glanced toward the parking lot, where Waylon still sat in the SUV. She put fifty dollars in her wallet, then stuffed the rest of the money into a side pocket of her purse. “Okay, let’s go.”
“I can tell this relationship won’t last. No trust.” Monette knew exactly what her mother would do. She’d tell Waylon that all Monette had given her was the fifty.
“Hey, what he don’t know won’t hurt me,” Annabelle wisecracked.
By the time they dropped Monette back at the halfway house, she felt drained and depressed. A visit from her relatives had a way of doing that to her. Candi was sitting on the front porch in one of two oak swings attached to the ceiling. She pushed herself back and forth with her legs. When Annabelle waved, Candi waved back. Monette climbed the stone steps without looking at the Explorer as they drove away.
“How’s your mama doin’?” Candi said when Monette sat next to her.
“Better than me in some ways,” Monette replied. They swayed for several minutes without speaking.
“You need to have some fun. And don’t tell me how you’ve got a lot to do. Damn, Monette. Lighten up.” Candi slapped Monette’s thigh playfully.
“Okay. We can go see a movie,” Monette said without enthusiasm.
“Right, a movie,” Candi said as a staff member came out.
The woman smiled at them. “Y’all have a good evening. See you next week.”
“Bye,” Candi said in a cheerful tone. When the woman’s blue Kia pulled away from the curb, Candi turned back to Monette. “I got somethin’ even better in mind. A party.”
Monette looked at her. “A party?”
“A throw down, have a good time party, too. Not some worn-out church social. Girl, I’m too tired of workin’, watching television and workin’ some more. I want to be around people who know how to have fun. I mean real fun.” Candi spoke in a low voice.
“You not gonna get me sent back to prison for some jacked-up party with a bunch of thugs. All I need is to get caught in some hole-in-the-wall serving liquor.” Monette shook her head and rejected Candi’s suggestion.
“I’m talkin’ about a house party. These are grown folks, Monette. They know how to be what you call discreet Most of them on parole, too. My cousin has a party once or twice a month. Sells hot wings and some drinks, too. That girl knows how to hustle.” Candi grinned at Monette.
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough of hustling relatives for one day.” Monette shook her head again. She stood. “Speaking of having stuff to do, I can work on my book.”
“Me and my cousin ain’t good enough for you, I guess. To hell with it” Candi pushed up from the swing and brushed past Monette to walk down the steps.
“Wait up, Candi. Now c’mon. I didn’t mean it like that” Monette walked fast to catch up with her on the sidewalk.
“Yeah, right. Every time I want to hang out, you got better things to do. Look, I’m not beggin’ you to be my friend. You got so much goin’ on that you don’t need me remindin’ you of the cage. Fine.” Candi’s brisk stride took her farther away.
Monette trotted until she caught up with her. “That’s not true, Candi, and you know it.”
“Uh-huh.” Candi stared straight ahead.
“Okay, okay.” Monette jerked Candi to a halt by grabbing her left arm. “You’re right. I was wrong to keep putting you off. You were there for me through a lot of craziness.”
“I’m not tryin’ to cash in no debt. I’m still tryin’ to be your friend.” Candi scowled at Monette. She yanked free and walked away again. “Nah, forget about it. You don’t even know where I’m comin’ from these days.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Monette yelled after her. When Candi kept going, she jogged to catch up to her again. “Listen, I’m apologizing. Damn, you been listening to Yarva too much.”
“Nobody thinks for me, all right? So don’t come tellin’ me that crap. I can see for myself that you’ve changed.”
“I have changed, Candi,” Monette admitted.
“At least you ain’t tryin’ to lie,” Candi snapped.
“Stop and listen to me for a minute.” Monette attempted to grab her arm again, but Candi moved out of reach. Monette kept walking, too. “I’m trying to build up a life out of nothing. Which is what I had before I went to prison, nothing. I don’t want to go back, and I’m not just talking about prison either.”
Candi stopped suddenly and faced her. “I can understand that. So maybe I’m part of goin’ back.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Before prison I had a fast lifestyle with so-called friends that kept me down. Somehow I got another chance. I can’t mess up. With me being high profile, I’ve got to be even more careful.” Monette spoke fast and with intensity as she stared back at Candi steadily. Candi seemed to be considering her words. They eyed each other for several seconds.
“I see what you’re sayin’. Guess we’re both a little touchy out here in the world, huh?” Candi said with shrug. They started walking again, this time at a leisurely pace.
Jayson came around the corner, whistling a tune. He broke into a wide grin and waved when he saw Monette. He called out, “How y’all doin’ today?”
“Not too bad. You’re working on a pretty Saturday afternoon like this. Man, now that’s what I call a drive to succeed.” Monette waved back as they approached him.
“Folks still have breakdowns on Saturday. I’m only open until noon, though. Just closed and cleaned up. Figured I’d get some lunch before I finished up for the day.” Jayson nodded to Candi. “Hi, ma’am.”
“Call me Candi. I’m sweet, ya know.” Candi put more sway in her hips as she walked toward him.
“Hello, Candi,” Jayson replied. “I’m going to the po’boy shop downtown. Like you say, it’s a nice day for a walk.” “I feel like a stroll myself.” Candi patted her hair as she spoke. “I was just sayin’—”
“Hey, Candi. Telephone. It’s your son and he says it’s important,” Yarva yelled. She stood in front of the halfway house with a hand on one hip.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’.” Candi walked off, muttering curse words.
“She doesn’t seem happy to hear from her son,” Jayson said. The set of his mouth seemed to hint at his disapproval.
“You know how it can be with teenagers. Always something,” Monette said in defense of
her friend.
“Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” Jayson replied with a grimace.
“You’ve got kids that old?” Monette looked at him. She guessed his age at somewhere past thirty.
Jayson proudly held up one large bicep to show Monette his tattoo. “Lenae is eight going on twenty-five.”
Monette nodded as she glanced at his bare left ring finger. Her smile drooped into a formal, though still polite, expression. “Oh.”
“Her mother and I are on good terms for Lenae’s sake, but we haven’t been together for about five years now,” he explained hurriedly.
“I see.” Monette reminded herself that this was none of her business. She had enough on her agenda.
“Uh, you have any kids?” Jayson said in an apparent effort to keep conversation going.
“Three grown kids. I’m a little older than you.” Monette looked off into the distance. Strike two against any thought of anything more than occasional chitchat with the man.
“You must’ve had ’em real young then. You don’t look old enough to have grown children. I’m serious,” he added with a grin when Monette glanced at him with a skeptical frown.
‘Thanks. Guess I better go inside. Nice talking to ya.” Monette turned to go, but his baritone voice stopped her.
“Maybe you’d like to share one of those foot-long po’boys with me. My treat. Like you said, it’s such a pretty day.”
Monette shifted her weight from one foot to the next. She could think of all kinds of reasons she shouldn’t accept his invitation, starting with their age difference and all the mistakes she’d made in the past. “Nah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Why?”
“I’m not exactly prime dating material at this point in my life.” Monette did not look at him. She expected a line of some sort. His words surprised her.
“Hey, it’s just a sandwich. No strings. I’m gonna be locked up in my office doing paperwork for another two hours at least. Take pity on me.” Jayson tilted his head to one side. “Please?”