Can You Keep a Secret?

by Mary Monroe

  It was no wonder that I eventually started working on getting things from my male friends that benefited me in some way. I refused to continue giving hand jobs unless my boyfriends spent money on me. And the more they spent, the more hand jobs I was willing to do. Some people would have called me a prostitute, but I didn’t think of myself that way. Neither did Lola.

  “Tyrone Patterson gave you a gold chain and gold earrings just because you jacked him off?” she asked when I called her up to tell her what I’d done last night while I was babysitting for a lady across the street.

  “Yep!” I wasn’t allowed to date yet, so I had to do a lot of sneaking around. One day I even got busy with a boy behind a vacant building.

  “Joan, you are so smart. There’s no telling what you’ll be able to get from your boyfriends when you decide to go all the way.”

  “Hah! I’m going to get all I can from them without doing any more than what I’m already doing. I make them feel good enough.”

  “Do they make you feel good?” Lola asked in a shy voice.

  I didn’t answer with a shy voice. “Nope! I do much better on my own with my fingers!” I paused and laughed for a few seconds. Then I got serious again. “I feel good when they spend money on me, but when I let them touch me, I don’t feel anything.” I had not been able to figure out what all the fuss was about when it came to getting down with somebody. I had not felt any of the rip-roaring pleasure I read and heard about all the time. Not even when I let boys play with my titties or finger my pussy. I couldn’t wait to find out what intercourse was like. Even as eager as I was, I was not expecting much. Most of the boys I’d been with were clumsy, and had not had intercourse yet either. Jacking them off was a lot of work because of the way they humped and twitched. I didn’t even want to think about how much whooping and hollering and humping they’d do when they got to have sex with a girl.

  “I guess sex is not all it’s cracked up to be after all, huh?” Lola asked shyly.

  “Probably not. But we’re going to find out soon enough.”

  “We who?”

  “You and me. I’m going to bring you out of that shell you’ve been in all your life if it’s the last thing I do.” I sniffed and gave Lola a few seconds to let my words sink in. She stayed silent longer than I thought she would, so I decided to change the subject. “How are things at your house with that Bertha woman always breathing down your neck?”

  “Daddy enjoys her company and she enjoys cooking and cleaning for us. I think she’s just lonely and wants to keep busy. Her kids don’t seem to care that much for her so she’s probably just as depressed and lonely as I am. She’s always telling me I seem more like a real daughter to her than her own daughter.”

  “What about her other folks?”

  “Her only brother died in the war in Vietnam. Her parents are both deceased and she’s got a few cousins scattered around Mississippi. But other than her children, Daddy and I are the only close family she has.”

  “As long as she treats you nice, you should treat her nice. If something happens to your daddy, she’s probably the only adult you’ll be able to count on.”

  Chapter 10

  Lola

  MAMA HAD BEEN GONE ONLY FOUR MONTHS WHEN DADDY CAME into my bedroom one Sunday morning and stood at the foot of my bed with a look on his face that confused me. His eyes looked sad but there was a smile on his face. I sat up and swung my legs to the side of my bed. I had not slept too well the night before because of a dream I’d had about Mama dying in my arms.

  “Sugar, I need to talk to you,” he began, clearing his throat and glancing around the room. I was glad I kept my room clean and neat. It was one of the few things Daddy didn’t have to fuss at me about.

  “Good morning,” I said, yawning and stretching my arms so high above my head my armpits ached. I sniffed and rubbed my eyes. I held my breath because I had a feeling he had something serious to say to me. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d come into my room before I got up. “How come you’re wearing your blue suit?” Daddy had only three suits; two black ones and a blue one. He wore the black ones to funerals. He only wore the blue one to weddings, parties, and on other happy occasions. He called it his “happy occasions suit.”

  “I’m wearing my blue suit because I’m taking you and Bertha out to brunch. And we ain’t going to no Denny’s or I-Hop this time. We’re going to a restaurant in one of the fancy hotels in downtown San Jose. I want you to pick out something real nice to wear, like that yellow frock you wore when we went to the Masons’ daughter’s wedding last month. And wait until you see how nice Bertha looks in her pink two-piece suit! She says the restaurant we’re going to is real nice.”

  “I can’t wait to see the menu.” We had not been to a real nice place for brunch since my tenth birthday. “So she’s over here again already?” Bertha usually waited for us to get out of bed before she barged in.

  Daddy cleared his throat again and blinked at me. “Well, sweet pea, after you went to bed last night she decided to stay the night . . .”

  “Why?” I gasped.

  “Baby, I miss your mama real bad. And you know I’m the kind of man who likes to be close to a woman as much as I can. Bertha’s such a good woman, I like having her around. She keeps telling me that I need another wife.” Daddy suddenly looked agitated. I got even more confused when that look disappeared and an even bigger smile suddenly crossed his face. “Baby, how would you like to have a new mama?” he asked, sitting down on the side of my bed next to me. His arm went around my shoulders.

  “Who?” I asked dumbly. As far as I knew, Bertha was the only woman in his life at the time. I wasn’t sure if I liked her enough for her to be my new mother. She was not nearly as pretty as my real mama. But she was real nice to me. Last month she had surprised me with a weekend trip to Disneyland.

  Daddy’s face stiffened. I held my breath because my heart was beating so hard. Then he blurted out the words that almost made me freeze. “Bertha asked me to marry her last night. I told her I would be happy to marry her and that we’d get married in church like she wanted to do the first time she got married. She’s always wanted to be a June bride. Her jackass ex-husband married her in one of them fly-by-night chapels in Reno in the middle of December during a snowstorm! No woman deserves that kind of treatment.”

  I gulped. “Why do you want to marry a woman like Bertha?” I didn’t mind her being in our house so much and I appreciated how nice she was to me, but having her living with us as my new mother was another story. I knew kids who had been in her class. A few of them had told me some unpleasant stories about her. But to be fair to Bertha and other teachers, I could think of a few nasty things to say about all of mine, all the way back to kindergarten. One of my biggest fears was that once Bertha became my stepmother, she’d start bossing me around. I was afraid that she’d eventually show a side of herself that she’d kept hidden so far. I knew enough about grown folks to know that some of them wore one face when they wanted something and then they put on another face after they got what they wanted.

  “What do you mean by that?” Daddy asked, looking concerned.

  “She’s not as pretty as Mama or Shirelle.”

  Daddy laughed. “Looks ain’t the only reason to marry somebody. Bertha is the kind of wife any man would be proud to have.”

  “Oh? Then why did her husband leave her?”

  “That’s a good question. You see, not all men know what a good thing they have when they have it. I’m sure that if that scoundrel could, he’d come back to Bertha in a heartbeat.”

  I shrugged. “She’s already over here every day anyway. Why do you need to marry her? You didn’t marry Shirelle.”

  “Well, for one thing, I’d never divorce one woman to marry another one. Besides that, Shirelle was a different story. She was no more marriage material than a nanny goat. Once I really got to know her, I wouldn’t have married her even if I’d been single. She was too worldly to make a man a good wi
fe. She smoked, drank too much, and at times, she behaved like a child. Her roller skating and watching cartoons with you wasn’t normal behavior for a grown woman. And she didn’t like going to church. Bertha’s got more religion in her little finger than Shirelle had in her whole body. Bertha would never live under the same roof with a man unless she was married to him.”

  I had no desire to put up a fight to keep Bertha in her own house. I knew that no matter what I said or how I felt about this new development, Daddy was going to marry her anyway. Once he got a notion in him, nothing could change his mind. I sighed with defeat because I knew it was time to give in. “So when you marry Bertha she’ll move in with us completely then, huh?”

  “Not exactly. We’ll move in with her. Her house is so much bigger and nicer than ours. And it’s paid for. She don’t have to pay rent and deal with a lazy, cranky landlord the way we do now. She’s got a nice nest egg and a pension so she’ll help out a lot financially.”

  Daddy’s last statement piqued my interest. The cost of living had gone up a lot in the past few years so money had become tight in our house. The thought of bringing Bertha into the mix so she could share our expenses didn’t sound like a bad idea. “We’ll live with her for free?”

  “No, baby. Very few things in this world are free. I’ll be helping Bertha pay the household bills, the upkeep and the taxes on the house, as well as everything else she and you will want. We need a new car and I know you’d like some new clothes and other knickknacks once we get settled. Bertha’s got a big back and front yard for you and your little friends to play in.” Daddy paused and looked around my room again. “And, your new room will be much nicer than this one,” he said, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. He said something else that made my stomach knot up worse than ever before. “Bertha promised me that she’ll treat you like her own child.”

  I swallowed hard. “What about her kids, Libby and Marshall?”

  “Won’t it be nice to finally have a brother and sister? You used to ask me and your mama for a sister or a brother all the time, remember?”

  “I wanted a baby sister or brother so I could have somebody to play with,” I wailed. “Libby and Marshall are too old for that.”

  “Well, Libby is engaged and will be moving out soon. She’s about to marry one of the Starks boys. Jeffrey’s a real nice young man and he works for the fire department. Won’t it be nice to have a fireman in the family? I’m sure he’ll take you for a ride on the fire truck one day.” The last thing I wanted to do was ride around on a fire truck with a man who was crazy enough to want to marry a straight-up witch like Libby.

  “What about Marshall?” I couldn’t decide which one I liked the least, Libby or Marshall. One was just as disgusting as the other.

  “Marshall just moved in with the young lady he’s going to marry in a few weeks. Her name is June Frazier. She works as a hostess at the same Denny’s I used to take you and your mama and Shirelle to for breakfast.”

  I hunched my shoulders and let out a tired breath. “I like Miss Bertha, but I don’t like Libby and Marshall and I know they don’t like me. Every time I see Marshall he gives me dirty looks.” Marshall didn’t just give me and the other girls my age dirty looks. Four years ago on Halloween, Joan and I went trick-or-treating. When we knocked on Bertha’s door, Marshall answered. After he dropped some lollipops and miniature candy bars into our bags, he unzipped his pants and whipped out his dick and shook it at us. Joan and I laughed because we had never seen such a shriveled up hairless nub before and we told him so. He cussed at us, we cussed back at him and then we ran. We could still hear him cussing after we had crossed the street. I had gone out of my way to avoid that man ever since that night and now here was Daddy telling me he was going to be my new brother!

  “Well, you won’t have to deal with them two scalawags that much. They don’t get along that well with their mother so I doubt if they’ll be coming around that much anyway. In the meantime, I want you to treat Bertha the same way you treated your mama and Shirelle. Do you hear me?”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  Chapter 11

  Lola

  WHY AN OLD WOMAN LIKE BERTHA WANTED TO BE A “JUNE bride” was a mystery to me. I had endured a lot of changes in my life, but I didn’t know how I was going to adjust to a new mother and two siblings I couldn’t stand.

  One thing that kept me from losing my mind was knowing that as long as Daddy and I remained in our own house, I didn’t have to deal with Bertha’s children that often. Marshall still gave me dirty looks every time I saw him and he talked to me like I had no feelings at all. “Lola, do you ever wash your neck?” he asked after a Sunday dinner at Bertha’s house, something Daddy and I rarely participated in. We were all seated in the living room. June was only about two months away and the more I thought about it, the worse I felt about Daddy marrying Bertha. “I bet you don’t even wash your hands after you use the toilet,” Marshall added before I could answer. This occasion was especially difficult because he and Libby had come to dinner at the same time.

  “If you think her hands and neck are filthy, can you imagine how nasty she must be under her clothes,” Libby said with a smirk. Marshall snickered.

  “Now you two behave yourselves. You’re both way too old to be talking such trash to little Lola,” Bertha said quickly, giving me a reassuring look.

  “Shut up, Mama. I wasn’t talking to you anyway,” Libby said casually. With that same smirk still on her face, she took a deep breath and gave her mother a critical look and said, “Now are you going to lend me that money like I asked? I don’t want to miss out on another Macy’s sale like I did last month.”

  I gave Daddy an exasperated look. It was the same kind of look I always gave to him when Libby and Marshall talked in a disrespectful manner to their mother; which was almost every time we were all together. They did that and asked her for money practically in the same breath.

  I usually kept my thoughts to myself, but this time I couldn’t control what came out of my mouth. “Libby, your mama just gave you a hundred dollars last week,” I said, looking her in the eye. “I saw her do it.”

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes got wide. She looked at me like she wanted to slap my face. “That’s none of your business, Miss Smarty Pants.” After she took a deep breath, she turned to Daddy. “Clarence, I hope you don’t let this child get away with acting this grown too often.” She turned back to me with such a severe scowl on her face, I thought she was in pain. “Lola, what Mama does with her money has nothing to do with you.”

  Bertha hoisted her hefty frame up off the couch and stumbled upstairs to her bedroom with Libby walking close behind her. A few seconds later, Marshall wobbled up out of his seat and waddled off in the same direction. I knew it was because he had come to borrow money from his mother again, too.

  “Pssst,” I said to Daddy. As soon as he looked at me I continued, speaking in a low voice. “I hope they don’t start asking you for money.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” he told me as he scratched the side of his neck. “I know how to say no.”

  A few minutes later, Marshall and Libby returned to the living room at the same time grinning like Cheshire cats. Libby plopped down on the love seat. Marshall stopped a few feet in front of Daddy. “Clarence, my man. You think you can get to your bank by Tuesday to get me that grand you said I could borrow?” he asked, winking at Daddy.

  “I’m sure . . . uh . . . I’ll be able to do that,” Daddy stammered, scratching his neck again. He quickly looked away when I looked at him.

  The way Libby was looking at Daddy, I knew she was going to put the bite on him too sooner or later. It wasn’t long before I found out that she had already done that. When Daddy and I went home an hour later, he confessed that he’d already been “lending” money to Libby and Marshall since last year.

  I was horrified and disappointed. Somehow I managed to remain somewhat composed. “But at Bertha’s house you
told me you’d tell them no if they asked you for money,” I said with my lips quivering. “All the while, you’d already started giving them money.”

  “I know, baby. I don’t like to lie to you, but sometimes it’s necessary. You see, I want to keep the peace between them and Bertha. She’s a good woman and I want to do all I can to keep her happy so I have to be nice to her kids. Please go along with me,” Daddy said in a weak and whiny voice. My father had always been a strong man, at least in my eyes. I never thought I’d see him looking and acting as meek as he was now.

  I was sick of hearing about what a “good woman” Bertha was. She must not have been too good if she couldn’t hold onto her husband and her kids treated her like crap. Despite my feelings of frustration, I had to admit to myself that she was a good woman, at least to Daddy and me. She spent so much time, money, and energy trying to please everybody; I wondered how her own kids had turned out to be so mean and nasty. I didn’t spend too much time wondering about that though. All I cared about was what was in the Bertha thing for me.

  By the time I got to know her better, I loved her almost as much as I had loved my real mother and my other mother. I promised myself that I would go out of my way not to cause her too many headaches. I was also prepared to go out of my way to be nice to Libby and Marshall, no matter how mean they were to me.

  My feelings changed right after Daddy and I packed up what we wanted to keep and moved into Bertha’s big house on a rainy Friday the first week in June. I had inherited the bedroom that Libby had occupied. But I didn’t like her plain blond bedroom furniture or any of that old antique looking stuff in the rest of Bertha’s house. The things Daddy couldn’t sell from our old house, he donated to Goodwill. I was glad he had no trouble persuading Bertha to let me bring everything from my old room into my new room.