by ANDREA SMITH
“I was gon’ talk to you ’bout Lucinda,” he said. “But…it ain’t easy,” he stuttered, “talkin’ ’bout…another woman.”
“Must be even harder talkin’ ’bout another wife,” Bonnie said.
“Ain’t really no wife,” he insisted. “Ain’t nothin’ but some make-believe stuff. You my real wife, Bonnie. You the woman I married in the church.”
Bonnie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The Naz she knew would never do this. He honored her, loved her and loved their life. This Naz made no sense at all.
“Three years you’ve been with this woman,” Bonnie said. “You come home to me fo’ three years wit’ Lucinda in yo’ clothes…in yo’ skin,” she cried. “I guess after-while, I was so used to her smell, I thought it was yo’ own.”
“Like I said, it ain’t that simple. Come on now, Bonnie…” Naz sat beside her on the couch and took her hand. She yanked away. “We can work this out,” he said softly. “You my wife…”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why did you have to go to her?”
He swung his head like it wasn’t attached to his body. “It started off small…you know. Jes’ a woman…”
“Jes’ a woman? Were there jes’ other women too?”
“Lucinda the onliest one. Ain’t never been no more,” he swore.
“But why? Try and tell me, Naz,” she yelled. “You need to tell me something!”
“Damn it, I don’t know,” he said. “I…go there to Taliliga, to Lucinda’s place…and I’m jes’ myself. I don’t have to be nothin’ I don’t wanna be. I ain’t got to go to church…ain’t got to fix nothin’…no pressure. And she don’t care ’bout no babies, mine or nobody else’s.”
“Is that what you feel with me, Naz? Pressure?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
“Don’t you think I feel that too?” Bonnie asked. “Don’t you think Horace and…and Thora and Mrs. Reverend Duncan and every responsible person feel that way sometimes?”
“I ain’t sayin’ that.”
“It’s what you call being grown, Naz. It’s being a man.” He lowered his head. “All this time,” she went on, “I thought you wanted a chile with me. ‘’Long as it come from us’ is what you said. Now it sound like you ain’t never wanted no babies…yo’ blood included.”
“I wanted a chile ’cause you wanted a chile. Look,” he said, “we can find a way to work this thing out.”
“No.”
“Come on, Bonita…we could always talk ’bout everything. Me and you is good like that.” He took her hand again. This time she didn’t pull away. She stared at her bare feet, cursing the fact that, even now, his touch felt good. “We’ve built a lot in twelve years,” he said.
“This is different.”
“Yes,” he said, “but we can get through it.”
Bonnie could feel Thora’s shoe kicking her backside. She could feel the silence around them and her heart slowly filling with forgiveness.
“So, what you plan to do?” she asked.
“I’ll go talk to Lucinda…”
“Talk ’bout what?” Bonnie said. “Ain’t nuthin’ to talk ’bout.”
“Lucinda is goin’ through some stuff right now…”
Bonnie’s mouth dropped open. She felt so stupid. And betrayed once again.
“She ain’t so…stable in the head lately,” he explained. “And if I left right now—”
Bonnie yanked her hand away and stood up. “You git outta my house, Naz Wilder,” she said.
“You don’t understand, Bonnie,” he said.
“You git the hell outta my house,” she said, pulling at his arm. “You leave here and don’t you ever come back!”
“But I love you! Just you. Please don’t do this, Bonnie. Please…”
“Get out,” she screamed.
“I ain’t gon’ leave you. I don’t care what you say. Please, Bonnie. Let’s jes’ talk—”
“You go talk to yo’ other wife.” Bonnie pushed him from behind over and over, inching him toward the door. Naz turned and grabbed her by her arms and shook her as if the jolts would turn her back into the wife that he knew. But the shaking only made Bonnie angrier.
“This is my house,” she hollered. “My daddy left it to me, and I want you gone!”
Naz stood there, stunned. After a moment more, he turned to leave. “What ’bout the rest of my stuff—my trophies, my pictures…”
“You don’t need them at Lucinda’s place,” she screamed. “You ain’t nobody special, remember? That’s what you said, right, Naz…or Shoop or Mr. Justice? What the hell is yo’ name, man?!”
“You my Bonnie,” he said, lifting his bag from the porch. “You my wife and I love you.”
“Jes’ leave,” she yelled. “Go on to yo’ other home.”
Bonnie stood screaming from the porch as Naz threw his bag in the back of the pickup. He pleaded for a while but there was no more sympathy, no more thinking for Bonnie. Just anger and raw emotion. Even when Naz’s truck pulled away, Bonnie was still screaming, her robe spattered with her own spit and tears. She held on to the porch railing and screamed even after Naz had gone. Bonnie yelled and cried until she had no energy, no spirit, no voice.
PART IV
FOURTEEN
Canaan Creek, 1985
Every Wednesday morning the Gray Lions charged the gates of the Old Slave Market in Charleston. With mesh sacks and shopping carts, they cruised the dusty aisles for vendors selling everything from Andouille sausages to Senegalese bangle bracelets. It had been a while since Bonnie and Thora had joined the Gray Lions for one of their shopping trips. They usually shopped at the Big Buy in town. Today, dark purple plums and multicolored peppers lured them on to take the trip with the rest of the group of mostly women mostly over sixty.
The white church bus jolted at the slightest bump in the road. A few grandkids of the Gray Lions sat in the back, their arms stretched over their heads, shouting, “Whooooooaa,” each time they hit a bump.
“I wish somebody would shut them damn kids up,” Thora mumbled.
Bonnie’s eyes skimmed the road. I-85 was lined with billboards advertising everything from fried potato pies to fireworks. Fields of peaches spread out for miles.
“That gal still on yo’ mind,” asked Thora, “that Augusta?”
“Hate to drag all this nonsense out again.”
Thora opened a zip-lock bag of shelled walnuts. “I’m afraid it’s already dragged out.” She threw a few kernels into her mouth. Thora could sense that Bonnie would go no further with this conversation, so she changed the subject. “You never did tell me,” she said. “When Tally came and fixed my flat tire that evenin’…what in the world was he doin’ at the house…all dressed up?”
“Mean, he ain’t say?”
“The man jes’ blabbed on ’bout Columbus and the history of the New World.”
Bonnie smiled. “He come to see you, dear.”
“Why?”
“You know he got a little thang fo’ you. Had it for the last few years. I think it’s right cute that he finally got the nerve to come by fo’ a visit.”
“Cute, huh? And what were we supposed to do when he came by?”
Bonnie knew how Thora would react, but she said it anyway. “He wanted to set with you. Maybe take you out.”
“Tally Benford?”
“Yes, honey!”
“And me?” Thora sucked her teeth. “I told you I ain’t interested in no damn Tally Benford!”
“You’s a lie,” Bonnie laughed.
“Tally don’t even come to my mind.”
“Lord, girl, you sound like a chile.” Bonnie suddenly regretted her flippant statement. The fact that Thora turned from Tally had less to do with lack of attraction and more to do with ghosts that often came between women and men after a certain age. Bonnie understood this better than most. She hadn’t looked at a man since Naz left, and that was almost thirty years ago
. Just like Thora, she recognized that it was easier to stay alone, or in the company of woman friends who could only sympathize about varicose veins and hot flashes.
“Tell me somethin’…” Bonnie started.
“Yes?”
“And I mean tell me the Lord’s honest truth…” Bonnie went on.
“Jes’ go’n and ask yo’ damn question!”
“How do you feel, really feel, ’bout that man?”
“I don’t need to be talkin’ ’bout no Tally Benford.”
“Come on, now!”
Thora paused like she was actually pondering the question. “Did I mention that Horace came to me again last night?”
“You avoidin’ me, Thora Dean.”
“This time he was a-settin’ at the foot of my bed. Had his head in his hands like he was frettin’ o’er something. I say, ‘What is it, honey?’ He didn’t answer at first. Then he looked up and say, ‘Got to finish my work. And so do you, dahlin’.’ He got up from the bed,” Thora said thoughtfully, “and befo’ he left, he say, ‘See you when the sun go down.’ And that was it.”
“All that’s fine and mighty deep, but I’m still waitin’ on yo’ answer.”
Thora dropped the bag of walnuts into her purse. She looked up, then grimaced as if she had just swallowed a spoonful of cod-liver oil.
“Lord,” Bonnie groaned, “why is the thought of wantin’ a man so rueful at our age?”
“’Cause we gotta change,” Thora answered. “Gotta keep our nails done and our hair straightened.”
“But you always done that, honey. Always kept yo’self together, whether somebody was lookin’ or not. ’Sides, Tally thinks you’re beautiful. And you ain’t gotta do nothin’ but talk to the man.”
“Goodness gracious,” Thora said with disgust. “That mean I gotta say somethin’ nice?”
“Jes’ be yo’self,” Bonnie said. “’Sides, Tally prob’ly die from shock if somethin’ nice ever come out yo’ mouth.”
Thora fell silent for a moment. Bonnie could see her good friend thinking, planning. “Men is too much work. Too much worriment,” she decided. “Don’t need none of that clutterin’ things up!”
“You jes’ scared!”
Thora did a double take at Bonnie. “You got one helluva nerve!”
“Ain’t no man knockin’ on my do’.”
“I’m talkin’ ’bout that Augusta. You runnin’ from that gal like she got the plague.”
Thora had deftly relinquished the hot seat. “We ain’t talkin’ ’bout me, we talkin’ ’bout you,” Bonnie said.
“Punk!” Thora charged. “Lil’ yella coward!” Thora let out a deep sigh and lay her head on Bonnie’s shoulder. “We’s both punks,” she admitted. “But I do know this: The man upstairs, sometimes He send us things. Things we ain’t expectin’. Things that make us grow and think…even at our age. And damn it to hell,” she said, “maybe that’s why Tally been sniffin’ ’round me. Maybe he’s here fo’ a reason.”
“Yes, dear.”
“And by the same token,” Thora said, slanting her eyes, “maybe Lucinda’s chile come to you fo’ a reason too.”
“Maybe,” Bonnie replied. Though clearly, Bonnie wasn’t ready to face the possibility or to face Lucinda’s child. She was relieved when the bus turned on East Bay Street. But Thora, being Thora, refused to let the subject die.
“This ain’t jes’ ’bout that gal,” Thora pressed. “This ’bout yo’ life too. We too old to be runnin’. This should be a time fo’ us to set out on the porch, eat cantaloupe, drink lemonade and hold our heads up to the sun.” Thora grasped the back of the seat in front of her and pulled herself to standing. “Think ’bout it, honey.”
“Like you gon’ think ’bout goin’ out wit’ Tally?”
Thora ignored Bonnie’s words. “I’m gon’ find me some nice bath salts here.”
“Run, rabbit, run.”
“Somethin’ sweet and sexy. Yes,” Thora said decidedly, “some of them lavender bubbles.”
She knew that Thora would eventually spend an evening with Tally Benford, even though she was scared to death about it. And that’s what Bonnie admired about her old friend. Thora had always faced her ghosts head-on. She sometimes even talked to them, abided with them. It was the living that gave Thora Dean the biggest problems. For Bonnie, it was the past. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she always thought she was. Perhaps, back in the day, Naz was right about her motives being more selfish than selfless. Lord, but she couldn’t go back and cast doubt on any of her actions. Not now. It was too late. And much too much time had passed for that old devil called regret.
First of all, I don’t want you to think that I got any romantic feelings for you, Tally Benford.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t want you assumin’ that this, this so-called date,” Thora said as if the word tasted like vinegar, “is gon’ lead to anything else.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And,” Thora said, pointing one coral-tipped finger, “the onliest reason I’m goin’ out with you tonight is ’cause Bonnie gon’ drive me crazy ’til I do.”
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine!” she said. “Now, let’s go on in, watch this movie and then you can take me back home.”
“If that’s what you say.”
“That’s jes’ what I say!”
Tally got out of his car, ran around and opened the car door for Thora. He wore the same suit that he wore the first time he had tried to court her. Tally looked nervous as he stood waiting for her to touch down on the sidewalk. And Thora Dean took her time. She smoothed her short wig on the nape of her neck, set her patent-leather handbag on her arm and then stepped out. She never made eye contact with Tally. Her shoes pinched her toes when she walked. Thora had always been used to the discomfort of a sexy pair of shoes, but for the last few years, LifeStride—with only a two-inch heel, roomy toes and rubber soles—had become the sexiest shoe in her closet.
Her red dress flounced around her calves when they walked to the ticket window. Bonnie had been impressed that Thora had actually bought a new dress for her date, but Thora claimed that she was looking to buy some new clothes for church anyway and that the dress had nothing whatsoever to do with Tally Benford.
Thora stood a few feet away from the ticket window while Tally paid. She kept her arms locked across her chest. Tally offered his hand but Thora marched into the lobby in front of him. The buttery scent of popcorn flooded the place. Doris Minton, the usher, pushed her heavy black glasses down on her nose at the sight of the two of them. She tore the tickets, and a grin cut across her face.
“Evenin’, Doris,” Tally said.
“Evenin’…you two,” she smiled.
Thora flinched.
“Good movie,” she said to Thora. “That there Eddie Murphy…he’s a real funny fella in this film.”
“Yes, he is,” Tally said as he and Thora entered the theater.
Thora stopped in her tracks. “You mean you done already seen it?”
“Well…yes.”
“Then why in the world you wanna see it again?”
“’Cause you haven’t. I figure it’d take five mo’ years to find a movie that neither one of us ain’t seen.”
“You already heard the jokes, and I’m gon’ be laughin’ and you won’t.”
“I doubt you gon’ even crack a smile during this date,” he said.
Her eyes widened at his audacity. “Damn it to hell, Tally Benford!” she said. “I don’t need this kinda talk from you!”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Jes’…tryin’ to make conversation, is all.”
“Well, if that’s gon’ be yo’ conversation, then you need to hush up.”
“Alright, alright,” he said, flashing the peace sign. Thora walked cautiously into the lit theater. The chairs felt cushy against her stockings as she inched into the row and sat. Though Thora had spent more than a few evenings at the Grove Playhouse alone, she
had to admit that it was different sitting with a man. The chandeliered ceiling and grand carved pillars usually took her breath away. But tonight she felt so nervous that she couldn’t even see these things. Her elbow on the padded rest brushed Tally’s and gave her a tingle. Surely this couldn’t be because of Tally himself. This would probably happen with anyone of the opposite sex, she reasoned. Horace had died from a heart attack almost fifteen years ago, taking her completely by surprise. One minute he was working in the garden, planting beefsteak tomatoes, and the next he was in the hospital. Horace never made it back home. Funny how, as a young woman, Thora had innocently flirted with men while she was married. But now widowed, she wouldn’t even think to date. So after all these years, she concluded that she would still be nervous whether it was Tally sitting beside her or the man in the moon.
“You want some candy or pop?” he asked.
“No. When is this movie gon’ start?”
“Another fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes? We got to sit here fifteen minutes?”
“Ain’t nothin’ worse than seein’ a movie after it done started,” he explained. “I likes to be on time.”
“There’s a difference between bein’ on time and showin’ up yesterday.”
“Oh, now, Thora,” he chuckled. “You exaggeratin’ and you know it!” Tally seemed unaffected by her bad attitude. “Did I tell you how pretty you look tonight?”
“Yes!”
“Smell pretty too.”
“I don’t need all this niceness!”
“What do you need, Thora Dean?”
“What?”
“I wanna know what you need from a man,” he said gently. “What you need from me?”
“I need fo’ you to take me home,” she said. “’Cause you ain’t s’posed to be talkin’ ’bout such things!” Thora stood up. Tally pulled her back into her seat. “I’m fixin’ to call the law on you, Tally,” she warned.
“Why you scared of me? Scared you jes’ might like me a little?”
She looked straight ahead at the closed velvet drapes on the large stage.
“I likes you, Thora,” he said. “You my kinda woman. And I don’t wanna do nothin’ but be next to you and call yo’ name.”