by Mary Monroe
I had told Betty Jean about my new plan to visit and spend the night a little more often.
“Is your daddy really sick enough for you to get away with using him for a excuse for a few more times every week?” she asked with a worried look.
“Yup. Daddy is sick enough for me to use him as one of my most frequent alibis until the day he dies. I just wish I had thought of using him sooner so I could have been spending more time with you and the boys. One day real soon when I can spend the night, we’ll drive over to Mobile and eat at one of them fancy restaurants. We might even go fishing and shopping and anything else you want to do.”
“Baby, I’d love to do all that. I’d also like to take the boys to that duck pond they love so much, pick some blackberries if we come across a patch that ain’t already been plucked clean, and we can have a picnic before the weather get too cold.”
“Whatever you say, sugar.”
“Odell, you so good to me. You sure know what to do to keep a woman happy.” Betty Jean stopped talking long enough to clear her throat, which usually meant she had something to say I didn’t want to hear. I was right. “By the way, how is your wife doing these days?” Her question caught me completely off guard. In all the years we’d been together, I could count on one hand all the times Betty Jean had asked me about Joyce. She hadn’t even seen a picture of her, and I’d never even told her what she looked like.
“Who?”
“Your wife? Joyce is her name, right?”
“Yup, that’s her name. Well . . . um . . . she’s doing real good. Loves her job, is always busy, and don’t give me no trouble at all. On top of helping out during summer school, now she is thinking about tutoring some of the slow students in the evenings. Joyce is a good wife.”
“But not good enough . . .”
I had to take a deep breath before I could respond to Betty Jean’s comment. “Not good enough for what?” My heart was ticking like a time bomb.
“Not good enough for you to be faithful to.” I didn’t like her tone. I couldn’t tell if she was complaining, whining, joking, or just talking off the top of her head.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her next question made my chest tighten. “Is she fat, pitch black, and ugly?”
“No. Um . . . compared to some women, she is a good-looking woman . . . in her own way.”
Betty Jean held up her hand. “Hush up. You don’t need to say nothing else. What you just said told me everything: Joyce is as ugly as homemade sin,” she snickered.
I sucked in some air and reached into my pocket and fished out my wallet. I snorted when I pulled out one of the pictures Joyce’s mama had taken of us on our wedding day and held it up to Betty Jean’s face. “She is a lot better-looking in person,” I claimed. I put the picture back in my wallet.
Betty Jean gave me a sympathetic look and shook her head. And then she looked me straight in the eye and asked, “How much longer do you plan on staying with a moose like that?”
My jaw dropped. I was shocked and disappointed to hear her low-rate another woman, especially one she knew I was in love with. There was nothing Joyce could do about her looks. But she was better-looking than some of the women I knew. And in other areas, she had more going for her than any of them—especially Betty Jean. “What’s wrong with you, girl? I told you from the get-go that I was never going to leave my wife. How long do you think her daddy and mama would let me work the store if I left her?” I reared back and gave her the most disgusted look I could come up with. “And what’s the point of bringing this up after all this time?”
Betty Jean stared ahead for a few seconds and hunched her shoulders. When she returned her attention to me, the expression on her face was so sad, I thought she was going to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m just jealous.”
“You ain’t got to be jealous of Joyce. She ain’t taking nothing away from you.”
“She ain’t got to take nothing away from me; she already got it: your last name.”
“There ain’t nothing I can do about that now. Shoot! I think I’m man enough for both of y’all, so what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, every woman would like to get married someday. When I was a little girl, I used to fantasize about the big church wedding I was going to have when I grew up. I never thought I’d spend my whole life being just a outside woman,” she mumbled. “And, I don’t know if I’m going to. . . .”
“Well, you can’t have it both ways. If I leave Joyce and move in with you, we’ll have to go on relief and let the government support us until I find a new job. And, you know I’ll never find another one making the kind of money I make now. On top of all that, the scandal would kill Joyce and shame you and the children. You want to deal with all that?”
“Naw, I guess I don’t.” Betty Jean put her arm around my shoulder and then she hauled off and kissed my jaw. “Them little devils must be asleep by now. Let’s go to bed.”
Tonight was the first time I felt really guilty about what I was doing to Joyce. But it was way too late for me to do anything about it now. I was swimming in shit up to my neck and I had to do everything I could to keep from drowning.
Chapter 31
Joyce
IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT AND I WAS STILL SITTING ON THE COUCH next to Yvonne. Aunt Mattie and most of the other guests had left. I had had two large drinks in the last hour and Yvonne had just poured me another one. I wasn’t worried about getting too drunk and having a hangover the next morning and I didn’t care if I did. I had plenty of ginger tea in the house and it was the best cure for a hangover. I didn’t feel like going home yet, because I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I had heard some disturbing things tonight. Willie Frank was an ex-con, but he seemed like a nice enough person anyway. I just wasn’t sure that I wanted to be around him too often. But he was entertaining. He told funny jokes and when he got real drunk, he got his guitar out of his truck and sang and danced in his bare feet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come across a man who behaved like he didn’t have a care in the world. I was so pleased that I had finally reached that point myself. Except for me not being a mother yet, I didn’t have a care in the world. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been depressed, but Aunt Mattie’s story had put a damper on my peace of mind and pushed me closer to the doldrums than I wanted to be.
“I feel so sorry for Aunt Mattie,” I commented to Yvonne. “I had no idea she’d had such a miserable life. That was one hell of a story she told us tonight.” I shook my head and took a long drink. “I wouldn’t trade places with her for all the money in the world.”
“Me neither. I feel sorry for her too. But I got one hell of a story to tell myself. And it ain’t pretty.”
I widened my eyes and stared at Yvonne. I was surprised to see such an unhappy look on her face. Most of the pretty women I knew complained about breaking a fingernail, pimples, or gaining a few ounces. Some even had the nerve to complain about all the attention they got from men. I hadn’t met one yet that had anything serious to complain about. “Oh? I never would have guessed that you’d ever had more than a few bad times in your life.”
“Oh, I’m happy now. But I done dragged myself through a lot of gloomy days in my life.”
After Aunt Mattie’s depressing story, I didn’t want to ask Yvonne to share hers. I’d heard enough dreary stuff for one night. But since she’d already started in the direction, I decided to be still and listen to her. “Like what?” I asked.
“My mama and daddy died in a tractor accident when I was six,” she started, twirling a lock of her hair as she spoke in a low voice. “It was the most godawful time in my life. Me and my two older sisters had to go live with relatives. That was rough too. I dropped out of school, worked miserable jobs, got involved with the wrong men, and ended up losing my children.”
I gasped. “I had no idea you were a mother!”
“I got three. My baby girl will be thirteen on her birthday this year, and it�
�s coming up real soon. My boys is only ten months apart so they both eleven. They all got different daddies.” Yvonne blew out a loud breath and sniffled. “I never really wanted kids, but I do love mine. Some of the folks I used to work for didn’t mind me bringing them to work with me, but some did. When that happened, I had to leave my babies alone all day with peanut butter sandwiches and water. Everybody else I knew worked too so I couldn’t ask them to babysit for me.”
“You couldn’t get any help from the daddies?”
“Pffft!” Yvonne waved her hand, did a serious neck roll, and looked at me like I was speaking gibberish. “Don’t make me laugh. Neither one of them fools hung around when they found out I was pregnant.”
“Where do your kids live?”
“With one of my mama’s sisters and her husband. They’re real good people. They don’t drink or smoke and they read the Bible every night. They live in Mobile and I don’t get to see my babies that much on account of my auntie and my uncle don’t want them to be around folks that drink and get loose the way we do.”
“That must be rough on you. If you don’t mind me asking, how come you don’t have your kids with you?”
“Well, like I just mentioned, I never wanted any. Since I lost my mama and daddy, I been real disappointed in the way things happen in life. The accident they died in happened just about half a mile from a hospital. They didn’t admit colored folks so them white motherfuckers let my mama and daddy lay there on the ground and die. Because of that, it took me quite a while to look at another white person without wanting to break their neck. For a long time, I hated being colored. I didn’t want to bring no babies into a world that had people so mean and hateful that they’d let human beings die just because they was the wrong color.”
“All white people ain’t bad,” I defended. “Me and Odell do a little socializing with some real nice ones from time to time.”
Yvonne nodded. “I know some nice ones myself. Willie Frank is one of our best friends—and it ain’t because we buy his liquor. The rest of his family is pretty cool too. But that still don’t make me feel better about what happened to my parents. Sometimes I wish I had been on that tractor with them.”
“Girl, don’t say stuff like that!” I scolded. “Life is precious.” I caressed her cheek and gave her a hug. “You have too much to live for now.”
“I know and thank you for reminding me of that.” Yvonne sat up straighter. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
I didn’t wait for her to ask me to leave. I should have done that on my own hours ago. With Odell gone until tomorrow and because Aunt Mattie’s story had made me feel so glum, I had decided to stay around people as long as I could tonight. But now I wished that I had left earlier. Yvonne’s story had made me feel even worse.
I went to bed as soon as I got home, but it took me a while to get to sleep. I had barely dozed off when I heard Odell come in just as the sun was rising. I got up and trotted to the living room.
“I’m so glad you’re back!” I gushed. I ran up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist.
“Joyce, you acting like you stressed out. Is everything all right?” He leaned away from me, looked around the room, and then back at me with his eyes blinking hard and fast. “Did something happen to your mama and daddy?”
“They’re doing just fine.” I guided him to the couch and we sat down. “What about your daddy?”
“He’s fine!” He glanced away again for a moment and then back at me with a pleading look in his eyes. “It’s a good thing I decided to start spending more nights with him. That heifer he married spent the whole evening running around with some of her friends and was just coming home as I was leaving.”
I gave Odell a puzzled look. “I thought you told me Ellamae didn’t have any friends.”
“She got a few and they all just as nutty and mean-spirited as she is.” He let out a loud sigh and rubbed his head. “Poor daddy. That lazy bitch hadn’t bathed him in two days.”
“Honey, I don’t like to keep saying it, but I will: When and if you want to bring your daddy to live with us, that’s fine with me.”
“Thank you, baby. I’ll keep that in mind.” Odell cleared his throat and glanced toward the door. “Uh, did you visit Yvonne and Milton last night?”
“Yes, I did and I almost wish I had stayed home.” I told Odell everything that Aunt Mattie and Yvonne had shared about their lives. He was as shocked as I was to hear that Yvonne had three children. “I felt so bad for her and Aunt Mattie, I couldn’t wait to get back home. Believe it or not, I was the last guest to leave. I knew that once I got home, and didn’t have anybody to talk to, I’d think about everything they’d said.”
“Well, baby, some of us got a bigger cross to bear than others. We just lucky.”
“I hope we stay lucky. Poor Yvonne. I really pity her. Last night I saw a side of her I never expected to see. She didn’t come out and say it, but something tells me that one of her regular guests is depression. It was bad enough she had to drop out of school and do odd jobs to make ends meet, she had to give up her babies, too. After all that, she ends up working in a dingy restaurant. Oh well. At least she’s still got her looks, good health, and a husband. The poor little thing.”
“Sweetie, don’t feel sorry for her. Pity ain’t never helped nobody feel better. Just be a good friend to her and I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. Why don’t you take her shopping with you next time you go? Or treat her to supper at Mosella’s or any other restaurant she want to go to. Maybe you should introduce her to some of your friends from the school.”
“Uh . . . I don’t know about that. I mean, I really like to keep my work and my personal life separate. I don’t think any of the folks I work with would be interested in socializing with bootleggers. I would die of shame if the police cracked down on Yvonne and Milton while we were on the premises and hauled us to jail.”
Odell laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about that happening. Them laws don’t give two hoots about what colored people do out here as long as we ain’t raping no white women.”
“You’re probably right. I’ll be friends with Yvonne. But I think I should feed her with a long-handled spoon, just in case. . . .”
“Just in case what?”
“We don’t know them that well yet, so we don’t know what kind of people they really are. Most of the bootleggers have shady backgrounds. Some have even been in prison. Remember that Jones man that used to run a house out by the cemetery? He’s in prison now for shooting a man to death one night during a card game in his house.”
“I doubt if Yvonne or Milton got enough gumption to kill somebody.” Odell laughed again. “They both stupid as hell and ain’t got a lick of class, but they ain’t got a murderous bone in their bodies.”
Chapter 32
Odell
THINGS MOVED REAL FAST BETWEEN ME AND JOYCE AND OUR NEW neighbors. Yvonne and Milton didn’t waste no time squeezing themselves into our lives. They were already acting like they were our best friends. We had told them on the first night we visited them that we’d like to have them over for a meal one evening soon. Before we could tell them what day, they showed up at our door unannounced the following Monday evening around six. “I hope we ain’t too late for supper!” Milton whooped, looking over my shoulder with his eyes bugged out.
“Whatever Joyce is cooking sure do smell good. I could smell it all the way outside!” Yvonne squealed as I waved them in. They both had on the plain gray uniforms they wore to work, and house shoes so shabby they’d have been better off barefoot. Joyce was in the kitchen getting supper ready.
“Um, we didn’t know y’all was coming.” I smiled even though I was annoyed. I thought it was real rude of them to just show up for dinner without an invitation.
“We didn’t feel like entertaining a bunch of drunks tonight, so we thought we’d come hang out with y’all for a few hours,” Yvonne chirped.
A few hours? “A few ho
urs,” I gulped.
“Well, just one or two. We don’t want to wear out our welcome too soon,” Milton responded, clapping me on my back.
I felt a knot swelling in my stomach. I was not in the mood to entertain company tonight. It had been a very hectic day for me and I had spent a lot of energy on Betty Jean yesterday, so I was tired, too.
I had planned on a quiet evening at home with my wife listening to the radio. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell them to come back some other night, but I couldn’t fix my lips to say that. Especially since they’d already shown us so much hospitality. “Joyce, we got company! You need to set two more plates!”
“All right, Odell. Is that Mama and Daddy?” she yelled back.
“No, it ain’t them, baby. Um . . . it’s Yvonne and Milton.” Within seconds, Joyce trotted into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. There was a puzzled expression on her face. I gave her a weary look and shrugged.
“I was going to ask y’all to eat with us this coming Thursday after I go to the market to pick up a few things. We’re having leftover pigtails and turnip greens this evening,” Joyce said. And being the gracious woman she was, she spoke with the most apologetic look I ever seen on her face.
“Pigtails and turnip greens is my favorite meal. Oooh wee,” Yvonne yipped, sniffing and grinning.
They didn’t wait for us to ask them to sit down. They casually strolled over to the couch and made themselves comfortable, and immediately started looking around the room. “Y’all sure got a nice place,” Milton noticed. “We been itching to see the inside of this house.”
“Sure enough,” Yvonne agreed. “We would have come over before now, but we been so busy getting settled and folks been coming and going like crazy.”
“Well, I’m glad y’all finally made it over here,” I said, clearing my throat.
“I ain’t never been in no colored folks’ house that was this neat and coordinated. If I didn’t know no better, I’d swear white folks lived up in here,” Yvonne hooted. “Y’all got it made in the shade. Joyce, where you get them curtains from and how much did they cost?”