by Mary Monroe
“Scary Mary also helps my mama cook and feed the homeless,” I said, holding my hand up defensively. “Even if the woman is a madam, she’s got a good heart and she doesn’t judge people.”
Jerome beamed proudly; his mother just looked at me and blinked. Mr. Willie glared at me and shook his head. Everybody else in the room smiled at me, even the children.
Then the conversation suddenly shifted to family matters that didn’t concern me, so I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I made it just in time to throw up in the toilet. When I opened the door to leave, Jerome’s ferocious uncle was standing there, blocking the doorway.
The contempt in his eyes could not be measured.
CHAPTER 43
“E
x…excuse me,” I mumbled, attempting to walk around Jerome’s angry uncle. I even offered him a smile.
The huge man stepped to the side, preventing me from moving. His face was close to mine and his foul breath made me cough. “Get thee behind me, Bride of Satan,” Mr. Willie commanded.
“Uh…I…uh…I…” I couldn’t believe the gibberish coming out of my mouth. I felt more like a spectator than the recipient of his wrath.
Mr. Willie rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, like he was preparing to punch somebody out. In a way he was. And I was his target. Wiry, reddish-brown hair covered his thick arms as he folded them.
“So. We meet again,” Mr. Willie said gruffly as he reared back on his stump-like legs and started to rock back and forth on his feet.
I attempted to walk around him again but he was determined to keep me from moving. He wobbled to the side and blocked my path.
“Where do you think you gwine?” he sneered, stabbing my chest with his thick finger.
“I’m going back to Jerome,” I said, trying to sound firm, my arms hanging limply down my sides.
“You ain’t gwine noplace, Whore of Babylon.”
“But…”
“But nothin’!” He paused and let out a loud belch, shaking his head as he looked me up and down. “Jerome always was the family fool, but I never expected him to settle for a sloppy, leftover whore like you.” Mr. Willie sucked in his breath and stuck out his barrel of a chest. He looked just as disgusting as he did that night he paid me to use my body. Deep lines formed a wide “V” on his forehead. Gray hairs stuck out of his flaring nostrils.
“Jerome doesn’t know anything about…what I did before I met him,” I hissed, glancing around, a pleading look on my face.
“I didn’t think he did. Well, if you think I’m gwine to let that boy get involved in somethin’ he’ll regret, you way wrong. Just look at you—with your nappy-headed self.”
I wrung my hands nervously. “This is none of your business, Uncle Willie.”
Mr. Willie was clearly horrified by the way I had just addressed him. He gasped and moved back a step. Then he stopped and stared at me with his mouth standing wide open. For a moment I thought he was going to laugh because there was such an odd expression on his face. But then he screwed up his face into a frown so extreme it looked like he had on a mask.
“Gal, don’t you never fix your lips to call me ‘Uncle’ ever again. I will never be no uncle to the likes of you, with your nasty self. For your information, Jerome is my blood. My blood is my business.” He snorted. “My nephew deserves a decent woman. A sanctified woman who’s been splashed by the blood of Jesus—not the cum of a hundred and one heathens! Not some two-ton whore willing to sell her rank pussy for a few dollars. And, by the way, you was one of the cheapest pieces of tail I ever come across. Fifty dollars! Them other gals charged twice as much and they was worth it and more. You wasn’t!” Mr. Willie interrupted his assault on me just long enough to catch his breath, then said harshly, “And for the record, you wasn’t even worth the fifty dollars! Shame on you! A two-dollar food stamp was about all you was worth. Look at you. You got the nerve to come up in this house in that loud yellow dress, lookin’ like a big, black cow peepin’ over a bale of hay.”
“Oh yeah? With all the squealing and sweating you did that night I was with you, you must have had a good time with this big, black cow! You didn’t care what I looked like then,” I reminded, trying to keep my voice low.
“I could have had a good time with a bar of soap on a rope!”
“Then why didn’t you do that in the first place?”
“I wish I had.” Mr. Willie growled and wiggled his nose, not taking his eyes off my face.
I felt like the lowest form of life known to man. But I also felt that this man was no better than I was! Women wouldn’t go around selling their bodies in the first place if it wasn’t for horny men like him.
“I wish I could take back what I did, because I didn’t have to do it. I was young and I was foolish,” I mumbled, hardly recognizing my own voice.
“Foolish? You got that right. Well, you ain’t good enough for Jerome. I suggest you get your big, black ass the hell up out of this family’s life! My mama would do a jackknife in her grave if I let that boy marry a sloppy Jezebel like you.”
“You’re not going to tell Jerome, are you? Let me tell him in my own way, in my own time. Please.”
“You…just…watch…me…now!” Mr. Willie rubbed his neck and blinked. “I know you don’t think I’m gwine to let him marry you first. Do you think I’m that stupid?”
“What…what do you want me to do?” I whimpered.
“Devil, you do whatever the rest of them strumpets do. Find you a man that don’t come from a respectable family like mine. I don’t give a bejoojoo what you do. I know what you ain’t gwine to do, and that’s to marry into this family. Especially with your homely self. I seen better-lookin’ faces in a pigsty.” An amused expression appeared on Mr. Willie’s face as he continued attacking me. “You’d give birth to young’uns with hooves and scales, I bet.”
Just then, Jerome entered the hallway in front of the bathroom and strutted right over to me, draping his arm around my shoulder.
“Mama’s about to serve the drinks,” Jerome said, a puzzled look on his face as he looked from his uncle to me. “Baby, you really do look sick. I’ll take you home in a few minutes if you want me to. Just stay long enough to have a drink. You are going to be part of this family and I want you to get used to everybody.” Jerome wiped a layer of sweat off my cheek with the back of his hand, then felt my forehead. “Hmmm. Feels like you have a fever, too.”
I nodded.
“It was nice talking to you, Unc…uh, Mr. Willie,” I mumbled, my words tasting like something contaminated.
“I bet it was,” he said with a smirk, both of his fleshy cheeks twitching. “And I didn’t get to say everything I wanted to say, but I’m sure I will, if I see you again.” There was no mistake about the threatening tone in his voice.
I was so light-headed, I could barely feel my feet as I followed Jerome back to the living room. I had perspired so much that the top part of my bright yellow dress was soaking wet. My stomach was in cramps and my eyes felt like balls of fire.
“Baby, I am so proud of you tonight. I’m so sorry you don’t feel too well,” Jerome said lovingly as we entered the living room where everyone was.
“I’ll be fine,” I managed, pressing my lips together to keep them from quivering. Mr. Willie was standing in a corner glaring at me with his arms folded. He flinched, shook his head, and took a drink when Jerome kissed me.
I felt like I had slid into the deepest bowels of hell and been sucked up into the jaws of the Beast.
CHAPTER 44
I
needed a drink more than anybody else in the living room at Jerome’s mother’s house. But even a straight shot of vodka didn’t dull the pain. Nobody even noticed when Jerome and I slipped away from the crowd and went to his car.
“I know you don’t feel well, baby, but I wish you would have said good-bye to everybody before leaving,” Jerome whined, helping me into his car. “And don’t be shy around Uncle Willie. Don’t call him ‘Mr.’ when you
see him tomorrow; call him ‘Uncle Willie’ like the rest of us did tonight. He’ll like that.”
“Jerome, I’m really sick and I need to get home right away.” The alcohol that I had been able to get down churned violently in my stomach. The inside of my mouth tasted like bile.
“Well, take care of yourself. I’d like for us to take Uncle Willie to the Buttercup tomorrow night for dinner. Your mother makes the best sweet potato pies in town.”
I nodded and placed my head against the window, praying that Jerome would drive fast. I wanted to be alone as soon as possible. I stayed pressed against that window all the way back to my house.
“I’ll call you later tonight. I would stay with you now, but my uncle is the head of the family and I need to spend some time with him.” Jerome lowered his voice and continued. “I just hope Uncle Willie’s not expecting me to hook him up with some female company like he did the last time he came to visit. Since my aunt died, he’s been hornier than ever. Scary Mary’s girls just love him to death.”
I nodded and started to open the car door. I paused and looked at Jerome. “Jerome, you love me for who I am, right?”
He gave me a puzzled look before he grinned. “Yeah. But you know that already.”
“If you found out that I was not the woman you thought I was, would it matter?” I delivered the words with extreme caution. At the same time, I wondered if it would make a difference if the worst-case scenario did come to pass.
“Remember how Flip Wilson used to say, ‘what you see is what you get’?”
“What? Jerome, what in the world are you talking about?”
“Well, I like what I see and even what I can’t see in you. I am not perfect and I don’t expect you to be. I can’t imagine you having a secret so deep and dark—don’t tell me something strange, like you used to be a man.” Jerome laughed. “I don’t think I could deal with that!” He leaned over and kissed my cheek and laughed again. “We got some babymaking to do and you’d have to be a real woman to be able to do that.”
I laughed dryly. “Don’t worry. I’m all woman and I always have been.”
Jerome kissed me at my front door and waited until I got inside before he left.
Before I could cross the living room floor, my phone rang. It was Muh’Dear.
“Listen. I been thinkin”. It won’t make no sense for your daddy and your sister…uh, half-sister, to stay in no motel when they come up for the wedding. Frank can sleep in Brother Boatwright’s old room. That Lillimae can sleep in my old room.”
“That’s nice, Muh’Dear. I know Daddy’ll be glad to hear that,” I said distantly.
“Are you all right? You sound a little strange.”
“I’m fine, Muh’Dear.”
“It’s just the weddin’ jitters. I had ’em both times I got married. That Frank. He was so frisky the day we got married, I had to hide from him to keep him from makin’ a fool of hisself in front of the preacher. Oh, I never thought I’d live long enough to see you get married. And to such a fine young man!” Muh’Dear chuckled. “And Brother Boatwright was so afraid that all the decent young Black men would be dead or married to somebody else by the time you got grown. If only he could see how you turned out.”
“Muh’Dear, I am really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“All right, baby. You get some sleep.”
I flung my overcoat on the back of the love seat facing my couch and dragged myself into the kitchen to rinse out my mouth.
Sleep was the last thing on my mind. All I could think about was Mr. Willie and his vicious threats. I recalled that ugly night I had let him have his way with me during my terrible teens. Before he had leaned me over his desk to enter me from behind, he had pushed me down on my knees and held my face against his vile, naked crotch. It had taken me three days to get the taste of his slimy dick out of my mouth. Now it looked like he was going to screw me again.
I had no idea how I was going to deal with my dilemma. But it was a comfort to know that Jerome didn’t care about the things he didn’t know about me. Or so he said. I made myself a strong drink. For a while, I felt fine. I was even feeling good enough to be enjoying a late-night edition of Soul Train on Channel 7. But my equilibrium was short-lived.
About an hour later, just as I was about to dial Jerome’s number, my living room door swung open. I was in my nightgown, sitting on my living room couch, clutching the telephone. It was Jerome storming into my house. His face looked like the mask of the red devil. His cheeks were twitching, his lips were quivering, and his eyes looked like they were about to explode. Black veins had popped out on his forehead.
“Get your husky ass off that telephone!” Jerome roared. He kicked the door shut and stood facing me with his hands on his hips.
“Jerome, listen, baby,” I began, holding up both hands. “Let me talk to you.”
“You nasty-ass, low-down, funky, piece-of-shit, cocksucking tramp!” Jerome was boiling with rage. In the blink of an eye, his face turned purple.
“Let me explain—” My voice was as weak as a kitten’s.
Jerome started strutting in my direction, his hands still on his hips.
“How in the hell can you explain yourself?! Uncle Willie explained it for you, you bitch! Do you know what a fool I felt like, in front of my family, listening to that unholy shit you did?!” Jerome shot across the floor and jumped on top of me, pinning me down on the couch with his knee against my chest.
The back of my head hit the arm of my couch so hard I blacked out for a split second. “You heifer! Gimme back my ring!” Jerome grabbed my hand and forced the engagement ring that he had given me off my finger, almost breaking my wrist. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you’d let me get this far with your musty, black, cocksucking self! What if I had found out all this after I married your big ass? You bitch!”
As soon as he rolled off me, I stood up, facing him. “All right. You’ve said what you had to say and you got your ring back, so leave.” My voice was much stronger now. “And while we are at it, I have a few choice names for you, motherfucker. You get your high-yellow, dick-less, no-fucking, CHEAP ass the hell up out of my house!”
All the blood drained from Jerome’s face. Now he looked almost as pale as a ghost. “Oh, I’m going, all right. But first I’m going to whup your whoring ass—” Jerome poised his fist and brought it down across the side of my face. I stumbled back a few steps, with him moving with me, ready to hit me again. I had never experienced so much rage before in my life and most of it was coming from me.
I balled my own hand and when I hit Jerome back, right across his lips, he hit the floor so hard, the lamp on my end table crashed to the floor.
“You let me tell you something, motherfucker. If you ever hit me again, I will kill you. Now get the hell out of my house!” I had removed my shoes but that didn’t stop me from kicking Jerome in his side while he was still stretched out on the floor.
He grabbed the seat of my couch and pulled himself up. Blood was squirting from his lips. He slid his hand across his mouth, and then looked at his blood in disbelief.
“Bitch! You—you hit me,” he choked. Tears and blood were sliding down his chin onto his neck. Strings of snot dangled from both sides of his nose. His wild eyes wouldn’t stop blinking, as he shook his head from side to side.
“And I’m going to hit you again if you don’t get the hell up out of my damn house. Nobody, but nobody, hits me and gets away with it,” I yelled so hard my cheeks ached.
Even with this ruckus going on, my mind flashed on Mr. Boatwright. I had him to thank for all the anger I had internalized for so many years. It dawned on me that for the rest of my life, the wrath I should have bestowed on Mr. Boatwright, I would aim at anybody else who abused me. I knew it wasn’t fair, but in my situation, worrying about what was fair to somebody else was not my problem. I had too much to make up to myself.
“You are going to burn up in hell, you lying wench,” Jerome shrieked.
&n
bsp; “Well, you are going to burn up before you get to hell, if you don’t get out of my house.” I spun that man around by his shoulder and pushed him toward the door. Then I helped him out with a swift kick in his ass with my heavy, bare foot. When I saw the blood he’d left on my clean carpet, I wanted to run out of that door and whup him some more.
Instead, I stood in the window and watched Jerome limp all the way back to his car. He didn’t even turn on his lights as he shot off down Reed Street like a cannonball.
CHAPTER 45
L
ife had been so cruel to me. So many things beyond my control had caused me to make some truly stupid choices and I had paid dearly for my stupidity. Each time I had a setback, I thought about how happy I had been when Rhoda was in my life. I didn’t know how I was going to get over my breakup with Jerome without the understanding female support I so desperately needed.
At this point, I looked at my half-sister Lillimae as a wild card. She seemed to be enough like me that I could eventually trust her with my deepest, darkest secrets. Her devotion to Daddy was an indication that she was a compassionate person. But I needed to get to know her better. And I planned to cultivate a closer relationship with her by calling her and writing her more frequently. Having met her and reuniting with Daddy had done wonders for my morale. But even so, I was moving forward with them slowly and carefully.
I rarely went to church anymore and I had not even prayed much lately. I knew I had to get over Jerome as soon as possible. However, I was too weak at that time to even turn to God. Instead, an hour after Jerome’s departure, I started pacing my living room floor, so angry with myself, I kicked the foot of the couch. But that only added to my discomfort.