by Mary Monroe
“A few weeks at least. Maybe even months. I don’t know yet.”
“Fuck me! Well, there’s nothing you can do about it, I guess. I feel for you, though. You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you get through this.”
“Thanks, Joan. I appreciate hearing that. I won’t be going in to work today, so if you can get away, I can meet you for lunch. When I couldn’t get in touch with you last night, I ended up at the Green Rose bar. That’s how upset I was when Bertha told me. I got too tipsy to drive, so I had to take a cab home.”
“You’re really taking this shit hard!”
“Oh yeah. Can you drive me back over there to pick up my car? That is, if you can get away from Reed. He was real nasty to me when I called to see if you could come pick me up from the bar.”
Joan sucked on her teeth before she responded. “Well, you know how he is. And he’s getting worse by the day. Last Sunday, I overheard him on the telephone talking to somebody at suicide prevention.”
“What? Oh my God. Listen, you stay home and don’t worry about me. I can take the bus or a cab to go pick up my car. If old Mr. Fernandez next door is home, I’ll ask him to take me.”
“Thanks, Lola. Otherwise, you know I’d help you out. But . . . well, things are pretty tense over here. I don’t know how much more I can take.” Joan blew out some air and a groan. “I’m going to check my club in-box. I could sure use some outside male attention.”
“Joan, let things cool down first. Maybe you shouldn’t set up another date for a while. Reed’s probably not as gullible as you think he is. You could be asking for trouble.”
“Don’t you start! You and I are roommates in the same glass house, baby. You could be asking for trouble too.”
“Now, don’t get mad at me. I am not trying to tell you what to do with your life, but I don’t have a husband to answer to. And as far as my clients, um, I mean ‘hookups’ go, none of them have asked me to move to their city to be their mistress. LongJohn has asked you more than once, which means he’s serious. What if he gets mad at you one day when you’re with him because you keep turning him down? There is no telling what he might do. You watch all the true crime shows on TV and you read the newspaper, so you know that people snap when they get mad enough. They do all kinds of violent shit to other people. How would you explain a black eye or a bunch of black and blue bruises to Reed?”
“Honey, getting my ass kicked by a date is the last thing I’m worried about!” Joan hollered. “Especially by a pussycat like John. No matter how many times I turn down his proposal to move to Phoenix, he just shrugs it off. He told me that he still wants to see me again, and again, even if I never take him up on his offer.” Joan paused and began to speak in a more gentle tone. “He makes me feel so special and relaxed when I’m with him. John is . . . well, he’s just what I need right now. I hope he can pay me another visit again real soon. Let me shut up. I’m beginning to sound like you, going on and on about that truck driver,” she chuckled.
I ignored her last comment. “Look, I checked out John’s profile and picture right after the first time you told me about him last year. I even Googled him, so I know he’s got a lot going for him. He’s . . . um . . . fairly good-looking but he’s no Mr. Universe. What is it about him that’s got you acting like a fool? Is it his money and the fact that he’s so crazy about you, or is he that damn good between the sheets?”
“He’s good in bed, but I’ve had better. He works hard to please me and he stays hard . . . if you know what I mean. With Reed, I’m lucky if he can keep an erection for a full minute. Until John says or does something I don’t like, I’m going to see him whenever he comes to town and wants to see me.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled. One thing I knew for sure was that Joan was a woman who lived by her own rules most of the time. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken any advice from me. “I still think you should slow down for a while.”
“Slow down? Slow down, my pussy! I wish you would stop talking that holier than thou bullshit with me! Not when you’re planning to meet up with that mysterious Calvin Ramsey when he gets back into town.”
“What do you mean by ‘mysterious’?” Joan didn’t respond right away, and that made me feel defensive. “I wish you’d stop taking potshots at Calvin. At least he’s not married like John, and he’s not putting pressure on me to move closer to him.”
“Honey, Calvin’s not doing much of anything where you’re concerned.”
“Exactly what is it you’re trying to say, Joan?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I just have a gut feeling about Calvin. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something strange about this dude. He sounds too good to be true.”
“Thanks for telling me now. If you think he’s mysterious and too good to be true, why did you encourage me to hook up with him?” I was talking so fast, my words sounded like one long sentence. I began to speak in a slow, even tone of voice. “And all you know about the man is what I’ve told you, so what makes you think there’s something strange about him?”
“Like I just said, it’s a gut feeling I have about him.” A long moment of silence passed before Joan continued. “Look, don’t pay any attention to me. I’m talking off the top of my head. I’m not Dr. Phil, and my own life is a major mess, so who’d take advice from me?” I was glad to hear Joan chuckle some more. “If you still want to check Calvin out and try to have a real relationship with him, go for it.”
“I am going for it. If I have to put up with Libby, I’m going to need all the distractions I can get. If I think Calvin is ‘mysterious’ or ‘strange’ when I get busy with him, you’ll be the first to know.”
Chapter 30
Lola
LIBBY AND HER FAMILY ARRIVED ON SATURDAY AROUND SIX IN THE evening. I peeked out my bedroom window and watched as Jeffrey started removing things from Libby’s Camry and his Bronco onto the sidewalk. By the time I got up enough nerve to go downstairs fifteen minutes later, a lot of stuff had already been brought into the house and dumped onto the living-room floor.
Jeffrey and Bertha were the only ones bringing their belongings into the house. Libby was sprawled on the living-room couch texting. The look on her face was so serious, you would have thought she was performing surgery. When she glanced up and saw me, she frowned. “Look what the cat dragged in. I was wondering when you were going to come down and help get the rest of our stuff unloaded.” Her voice was just as shrill and annoying as ever. “I can’t do too much on account of I just picked a splinter out of my hand and it’s still too sore for me to lift anything.”
“I smell something stinky every time I come in this house!” Kevin hollered, entering from the kitchen and looking directly at me. It was amazing how much he looked and acted like Libby. He was fourteen, but most of the time he behaved like a toddler. “I ain’t going to like bringing my friends over here!”
I hadn’t been in the living room a full minute, but my head already felt like it was about to burst. I was glad I had some Advil, a large bottle of wine, and a Bible in my room, because I was going to need all three. I was going to do whatever else it took to survive what I thought of as a “home invasion.”
The front door was standing open. Bertha was outside on the sidewalk with a bulging shopping bag in each hand.
“I was taking a nap,” I told Libby.
“Well, if you don’t mind, there are a few more things to bring in,” she snapped.
Without a word, I shuffled out the front door and stopped right next to Bertha. She looked as if she was tired enough to pass out. She gave me a pleading look and handed me one of the shopping bags.
For the next twenty minutes, I helped Jeffrey and Bertha bring in more shopping bags and boxes. We carried everything upstairs to the room that Jeffrey and Libby were going to use. Marshall had occupied it before he moved into his own place with his wife. Kevin was going to share Bertha’s room and sleep on the floor in his sleeping bag.
Libby and Kevin,
both on the couch now clutching their smartphones as if they were diamonds, didn’t lift a finger to help bring the rest of their stuff into the house. That really pissed me off, but for Bertha’s sake I held my tongue.
I brought in the last shopping bag, which contained Libby’s numerous bottles of perfume and bubble bath, and dropped it onto the floor with a thud. She scrambled off the couch and marched up to me wagging her finger in my face.
“What’s wrong with you, Lola?” she shouted, furrowing her brows. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, too tired to show my anger. The palms of my hands and arms were aching from hauling so many shopping bags into the house. My feet felt like they were rooted to the floor.
Libby glared at me. “There’s at least five hundred bucks worth of smell goods in that shopping bag you just dropped to the floor like it was a sack of garbage!”
“Then why didn’t you get up off your backside and help us bring the stuff in?” I asked, glaring back at her with my hands on my hips. By now I didn’t care if I made Bertha mad by standing up to Libby.
“Girls, be nice now,” Jeffrey said, entering the house with a box full of Kevin’s video games. “I don’t feel like playing referee today.” He laughed even though I knew he was just as frustrated as I was. He kicked the door shut.
A few moments later, Bertha came back downstairs, huffing and puffing and sweating as if she had just run a marathon. “I’m glad we finally got everything in,” she mumbled, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “I haven’t worked this hard in years.”
“And I sure do appreciate it, Mama,” Libby said. She actually sounded sincere and grateful. “I wish I could have helped. Lola, you’re welcome to use some of my bubble bath whenever you want.”
I couldn’t remember the last time she offered me something nice. I whirled around so fast to look at her, I heard the bones in my neck pop. “Thank . . . you,” I mumbled. She was actually smiling at me.
A sheepish grin covered Jeffrey’s face, and he winked at me. I was glad Libby had returned her attention to her smartphone and didn’t see that. Jeffrey set the box on the floor and then he walked up to Libby and kissed her cheek.
“When do we eat? And I don’t want no chitlins!” Kevin hollered. Not only had he inherited Libby’s looks and dumpy body, he was just as mean-spirited as she was.
We were all standing in the middle of the living-room floor, looking like sheep without a shepherd. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Bertha announced. She was flustered, but I didn’t feel too sorry for her. No matter what she’d said, I knew she didn’t want Libby and her family staying with us any more than I did. If she had said no, Libby and Jeffrey had other options. They had a lot of friends, and Jeffrey had family all over town whom they could have moved in with. “Lola, you want to help me set the table? We’re having smothered chicken and mashed potatoes. And good news! I made some of those sweet rolls you like so much, especially for you.”
“I can help you set the table, but I’ll be eating out this evening,” I stated. “Just leave me a few rolls to eat later tonight or tomorrow.” I had not been able to sleep much last night. Just before midnight I’d piled out of bed and turned my computer on. All I had planned on doing was spending a few minutes in a chat room until I got sleepy. I got bored with that real quick, so I logged on to AOL to check my regular e-mail. In addition to the usual junk, I received an ad for penis enlargement pills. I couldn’t understand why shit like that didn’t go directly into my spam folder where it belonged. But I didn’t have time to worry about that. I logged out of AOL and signed in to the Discreet Encounters website. The only new message in my club in-box was from a college professor at Florida State. He was in town for his twenty-fifth class reunion. I Googled him first to make sure he was who he said he was. And then I read the reviews other members had posted about him. Every woman had given him either four or five stars. I had called him up at nine o’clock this morning and arranged an encounter for eight-thirty tonight.
“You going out with that Elbert Porter again,” Bertha asked with a smile.
“Elbert? You’re still going out with him?” Jeffrey asked, also with a smile. “I’m so glad to hear that! You two make a nice couple.”
“Humph. I always thought he was a fag,” Libby sneered. I ignored her comment, but that didn’t shut her up. “His ex-wife told my Zumba instructor that she found a gay porn magazine in his sock drawer.”
“I still see Elbert every now and then, but I’m going to go visit Liza Mae Ford tonight. We’ll be ordering some takeout for dinner. Her home care nurse had a family emergency and had to cancel her visit,” I said. My ruse about the invalid who needed my assistance was not only getting old, but I had used it so many times I had almost begun to believe this woman existed. I made a mental note to start mentioning in front of everybody in the house that I was going to join a book club. Like Joan, I could use that bogus excuse at least a couple of times a month. I finally turned to Libby and added, “And for your information, I know for a fact that Elbert is not gay.”
“Humph! I guess you got physical proof, huh?” she babbled.
“I don’t need ‘physical’ proof.” It was hard to keep my voice at a normal volume. “Even if Elbert is gay, I still enjoy his company.”
“Isn’t Liza Mae the woman who was the victim in a hit-and-run accident a few years ago?” Jeffrey asked in his usual calm, soft-spoken voice. I was so glad he steered the conversation away from Elbert. It was always nice to have him around when Libby was on the premises. Had he not been such a good “referee,” there was no telling what might have transpired between Libby and me this time.
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled.
“Who the hell is Liza Mae?” Libby asked harshly, looking from me to Bertha to Jeffrey and back.
“A woman I went to school with. A drunk driver hit her a few years ago, and she’s been disabled ever since,” I replied.
“Since when do you know anything about caring for disabled people? You ought to leave that to a trained professional. You know how clumsy you are. If you drop this woman and she breaks a few bones, or you give her the wrong medicine, we’ll read about you in the newspaper. You ought to know by now that it doesn’t pay to be a Good Samaritan. I heard about a man who carried his drunk friend out of a bar and dropped him and broke his hip. The friend sued—”
“Libby, please. Let’s not turn a positive situation into a negative one.” I could have hugged Jeffrey for cutting Libby off. “I admire Lola for being so thoughtful and willing to help her friend. You should admire her too.” Jeffrey looked at Bertha. “Mama, I am so proud of you for raising Lola to be such a caring person.”
The room got quiet and stayed that way until I spoke again. “Thank you, Jeffrey. I really appreciate hearing somebody say that.”
I had never heard Jeffrey, or anybody else, compliment Bertha on how well she’d raised Libby and Marshall. I was certain that thought had crossed other people’s minds. Even Libby’s. I rolled my eyes to the side and gazed at her. She looked so sad, I wanted to say something to make her feel better. But it was hard to come up with something positive to say about Libby.
“Thank you, son. Lola was real easy to raise,” Bertha said, beaming like a lightbulb. The smile that suddenly appeared on her face stretched from one side to the other. She was looking at Jeffrey as if she wanted to kiss his feet. Then she turned to me. “Lola, Liza Mae is so lucky to have a friend like you.” I almost felt guilty about her and Jeffrey making such a fuss on something that was based on a lie.
“Is this Liza Mae a great big fat woman?” Libby wanted to know. “Most folks confined to wheelchairs get real heavy after a while.”
“Um, yes, she is. She’s gained over a hundred pounds since the accident,” I replied.
“Well, you just be careful, Lola. A lot of things could go wrong in a situation such as this.” Libby’s tone was much softer now, and her words really touched
me. This was a good time for me to say something nice to her, but before I could, she started talking again. “Not only could you end up with a lawsuit on your hands, you could fall and get seriously hurt trying to do whatever it is you do for this fat woman.” For a moment, I actually thought she had finally begun to care about me. I was wrong. “I wish you would spend more time looking after Mama. I don’t know what we’d do with her if something happened to you. . . .”
I didn’t look at Bertha to see her reaction, but I heard her gasp as I continued. “Your mother is not an invalid. She doesn’t need that much looking after. And nothing is going to happen to me,” I insisted. I had said and heard all I could stand on this subject. I looked at my watch and let out a yelp. “I’m going to be late! I hate to rush off, but I need to take a shower so I can be on my way.”
I didn’t wait around for anybody to respond. But as soon as I turned my back and headed toward the steps to go upstairs, I heard them all start talking at the same time. I was glad the subject was no longer Liza Mae. Libby was complaining about how “gummy” the yellow walls looked. Kevin was yelling about how hungry he was and how musty the house smelled. Jeffrey was repeatedly thanking Bertha for letting them move in with us. And Bertha was gushing about how happy she was to have them. I shook my head and rushed into my room to keep from throwing up.
When I left to go on my date, everybody was in the living room hollering at the contestants on Family Feud. They were all so engrossed in it, nobody noticed when I eased out the front door.
Bertha stored so much junk in her garage, there was no room for my car. I always parked in the driveway. Libby had blocked my Jetta with her car. I didn’t want to deal with her anymore tonight, so I started walking down the street and flagged down the first cab I saw.
The fare and the tip to the hotel in San Jose set me back thirty dollars. I hoped that Professor Darrin McMann would make the date worth my time and money. Other members had posted a lot of excellent reviews about him, so that was a positive sign.