God Ain't Blind (8 page)

There were enough deadbeats among the forty-five thousand individuals in Richland to keep a small army busy. The folder in the in-box on my desk was so thick with files that I could have easily spent the next four hours on the phone, using one ruse after another, trying to get delinquent debtors to take my calls. Along with funeral directors, lawyers, the IRS, and the police, bill collectors never had to worry about running out of work. There were some people who did everything that they could think of not to talk to me or one of the collection agents I supervised. When a particular file landed on my desk, it was because the case had reached the critical level. I’d been cussed out and threatened so many times, it had become entertaining. And I had heard every excuse in the book. After almost four years, I was used to it. But that didn’t make my job any easier.

However, I had something a little more important to me on my mind this particular afternoon. Well, actually two things. I decided to address first the one that was bothering me the most. I called my husband’s barbershop again. When one of the apprentices answered, I hung up. I waited a few minutes and called again, this time dis-54

Mary Monroe

guising my voice. I was glad Pee Wee answered, because I didn’t want to keep hanging up and calling back until I got him.

“Hi, baby,” he said. He sounded tired and distracted. If he had been doing what I suspected, it was no wonder he sounded that way. I was tired and distracted, too. I had worked hard to make my marriage work, but apparently, I had not worked hard enough. I didn’t like the fact that my husband was probably having an affair, but I wasn’t going to let it drive me crazy, especially now that I was having one, too.

“How’s work?” I asked in a casual manner.

He hesitated for several seconds before he responded. “The same as it was yesterday. The same as it’ll be tomorrow,” he replied.

“Are you feeling all right? Is something going on with you?” I asked, trying not to sound confrontational.

“I’m feelin’ fine. Why are you askin’ me somethin’ like that?”

“You looked a little peaked before you left the house this morning, and you sound kind of weak now.” If his story about visiting a doctor every Friday was true, this was the perfect time for him to tell me.

“Woman, I am fine,” he said sharply. I hated to be referred to as

“woman” by him, and he knew it. “Now, is somethin’ the matter with you? You ain’t pestered me at work in months.”
Pestered
was another word he knew I hated when it was used in reference to me.

He sounded impatient on top of everything else. This conversation was almost in the toilet, and I couldn’t wait to flush it.

“Nothing is wrong with me. I just called to check in with you. I had thought about coming over there earlier, on my lunch hour.”

“Why?” he asked with a gulp.

Why?

“We haven’t had lunch together in a while, and I thought . . . I thought it would be something nice for us to do. We used to do it all the time,” I snapped. “That’s why.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t come over here. I’ve been busy all day. I ain’t even had time to take a lunch break or no other kind of break.”

“Oh.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s three thirty. You haven’t taken any breaks at all today?”

“Naw.”

GOD AIN’ T BLIND

55

“You didn’t even go out for lunch or coffee, or to get some fresh air, or anything else?”

“Naw. Woman, ain’t you listenin’ to me? Didn’t you just hear me say I ain’t been out this door since I got here this morning?”

“Oh, I heard you all right. I just wanted to be sure I was hearing right,” I said, my jaw twitching.

“You heard right. Annette, if you want to lollygag on the telephone, you goin’ to have to call up somebody else. I am really busy.”

“I know that, Pee Wee. You’ve already told me. But since I am your wife, I thought that no matter how busy you were, you’d always have a few minutes for me. I don’t call you at work that often.

And as a bill collector, I know how annoying unwanted phone calls can be. If you don’t want me to annoy you at work at all, just tell me and I won’t.” I let out an involuntary hiccup, and that prompted his next question.

“Annette, have you been drinkin’?”

“No, but I wish I had a nice strong one in my hand right now. I will be drinking later, though.”

“Oh, that’s right. You still goin’ with Rhoda for drinks after work?”

“Yeah,” I said, making a note that I’d have to call Rhoda again so I could make sure our stories matched. “Do you want me to pick you up another rib dinner on my way home tonight?”

“Naw, don’t worry about that. I’m goin’ to wrap things up here in a little while. Then I’m goin’ to stop at that new restaurant that you do so much business with to get me a plate. I’ve heard from a lot of people that the brother—Louis, or whatever his name is—

who runs it cooks a mean meat loaf. It’s no wonder. Most fags can cook up a storm.”

Fags?

“You . . . you think that brother is gay?” I asked, my voice quiver-ing.

“Oh, there is no doubt about it! The dude is as gay as an Easter basket!”

If Louis Baines was gay, he was also a damn good actor. In my opinion, he had more machismo in his baby finger than the aver-age man had in his whole body. I chose not to address that touchy subject with Pee Wee. He was a fairly intelligent man, but his mind was as nimble as a slab of concrete when it came to his opinions.

56

Mary Monroe

He was one of the many black people I knew—even though they had no evidence—who continually insisted that some government officials had gotten together in some remote lab somewhere and created AIDS. Then they’d used it to try to wipe out black folks, gays, Hispanics, and other “undesirables.”

“Do you mean Off the Hook?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

As much as I wanted Louis’s business to succeed, I didn’t want my husband to get too close to it.

“And what the hell kind of name is Off the Hook for a restaurant? Sounds more like the title of a Rick James song.”

I thought that the name was
cute,
but I knew if I said that, it would only add more credence to Pee Wee’s gay notion. “The meat loaf at my mama’s restaurant is pretty good and closer to you,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but your mama done turned into a real shylock over the years. I don’t feel like givin’ up a pound of my flesh for somethin’

I can get for a lot less. Her prices would break me. Besides, your mama’s place ain’t hurtin’ for business. I’m just tryin’ to help that young brother get a toehold so another black business in this town can prosper. Ain’t that what you’ve been preachin’ for years?”

“Uh-huh.” I was really ready to conclude this phone call now or change the subject. “I guess I’ll let you go now. I know how busy you are.”

Pee Wee was busy. However, he still had time to keep talking about Louis. “I heard that that young brother who runs that new place thinks he’s cute, with his long, fuzzy hair and sweet voice. I know for a fact that he thinks his hair is too good for him to get it cut in black barbershops. Dwayne, the only other black barber in town besides me, told me that hisself. He seen that sissy struttin’

out of that white barbershop on Baxter Avenue, with that shit on his head slicked back like Al Pacino in one of his gangster roles.

Me, I’d rather cut a dog’s butt hair than that limp shit that dude got on his head.” Pee Wee grunted like some creature, and then he let out a harsh chuckle. “I bet he’ll dye it blond or get it styled like Shirley Temple or Farrah Fawcett eventually.”

“I still hope his business succeeds,” I said firmly.

“And it will. The women in this town will see to that. Y’all like to eat out. Women are so dumb when it comes to pretty boys. Oh GOD AIN’ T BLIND

57

well. At least you ain’t as dumb as women like Rhoda and Scary Mary. But like I said, most fags can cook up a storm. You women get off on shit like cookin’ on account of it’s one of y’all’s best natural roles. That sissy could cater a woman a cake with a booger
and
a roach on top of it, and she wouldn’t complain. She’d just pluck them off, with a smile. But the brother must be doin’
somethin’

right if
you
do so much business with him. What’s his name again?”

“His name is Louis,” I said flatly. “And I doubt very seriously if he’s gay,” I added with conviction. “People used to accuse you of being gay when we were kids, remember?”

“Well, if anybody knows that ain’t true and never was, it’s you.”

Pee Wee laughed and muttered a few obscenities under his breath.

“I’ll tell your favorite caterer you said hello, anyway. Oh! Do you want me to get a plate for you, too? He got anything you want?”

“No,” I said quickly and stiffly.

“That’s a damn shame. On account of you doin’ business with him, I bet he’d give me a plate for you half price if I told him I was married to you.”

“No, don’t do that. I want to keep my relationship with Louis on a professional level. I don’t like to get too personal with my business associates.”

Pee Wee let out a loud breath. “If you’re on a first-name basis with
Louis
already, it sounds like your relationship with him done already got personal to me. I got clients that I’ve been dealin’ with for twenty years, and they still call me Mr. Davis. I want to keep it that way.”

“Uh, it was his idea. He wants to be addressed by his first name.

He’s from down South.”

“I see. That figures. It’s a Southern thing. I don’t want to touch that one with a stick, with my Pennsylvania-born self. The South is another planet, if you ask me. No wonder we Northerners call it Bigfoot country.” He laughed again. “Now I got to get off this phone and get back to work.”

C H A P T E R 1 2

I didn’t waste any time addressing the second issue on my mind.

I called Louis at his work. I was on hold for five minutes before he came on the line.

“Louis, are you still going to see me this evening?” I asked, wrapping the telephone cord around my finger.

“I hope so. Unless you can’t make it.”

“I just talked to my husband. He’s going to pick up one of your meat-loaf dinners on his way home from work this evening,” I stated, forcing the difficult words out of my mouth like an extracted tooth.

“Oh?”

“Yes, and it sounds like he’s going to become a regular customer,”

I said in a nervous voice. “Like everybody else, he likes good cooking.”

“Good. I’ll fix his plate today with my own two hands. If there’s anybody I want to keep happy, it’s him. As long as he’s happy, we’ll be happy. You sure he doesn’t suspect anything? I am sure that if he was smart enough to get a woman like you, he’s not so stupid that he won’t get suspicious if you give him a reason.”

“My husband has no reason in the world to think that I’m up to no good. I haven’t done a damn thing to make him suspicious, which is more than I can say about him.”

A long silence followed. I didn’t want to be the one to break it, GOD AIN’ T BLIND

59

because I didn’t know what else to say on the subject. But I was willing to respond to his comments and concerns.

“Annette, I don’t think it’s my place to get nosy about what goes on in your personal life, but if you want to talk to me about something, please feel free to do so.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“I mean it. I want you to know now that I am here for you, day or night. If you are willing to talk to me about your problems or concerns, even if it’s a problem with your husband, I am willing to listen.”

“Louis, let’s confine our relationship to just you and me for now.

If we don’t have to bring my husband into our conversations, we won’t.”

“But if your husband is going to be a problem for us, I need to know.”

“My husband is not going to be a problem. My marriage is not a problem.”

“Well, there’s a problem somewhere, baby. There must be! I can hear it in your voice. The man sleeps in the same bed with a juicy-butt woman like you and has not made love to you in almost a year.

You told me that yourself. If that’s not a problem, I don’t know what is.”

“I’ll call you just before I leave work, and don’t worry about anything I just said. It’s nothing that I can’t handle by myself,” I assured Louis. But it was. As soon as I hung up with him, I called Rhoda back.

“He lied like a rug,” I said as soon as she answered.

“Who?” she asked with a snort.

“Pee Wee. I called him up and gave him every chance in the world to tell me he’s been seeing a doctor.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want you to know. Maybe he’s goin’ for somethin’ that’s too embarrassin’ for him to discuss with you. Like ex-cessive gas.”

“Rhoda, if my husband was farting all over the place, I’d know about it,” I snapped.

“It could be somethin’ else then. Like one of those things that men don’t like to talk about because they think it’s too embarrassin’.”

“I’m his wife!” I hollered. “If he can’t share something embarrassing with me, who can he share it with?”

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Mary Monroe

“He must not think that if he told his apprentice he’s seein’ a doctor, but he didn’t tell you. It could be somethin’ a man will discuss only with another man. What’s that new drug they got now for men to use when they need a little help in the bedroom? Viagra, I think they call it, right?”

“If my husband is seeing a doctor, it’s certainly not for Viagra. I could, and do, parade around in front of him naked. All he does is tell me to put on some clothes before I catch a cold or to move from in front of the TV.”

Rhoda laughed.

“You think this is funny?”

“Hell yeah,” she said and snickered.

“I’m not laughing, Rhoda.”

“I’m sorry,” she managed, snickering some more.

“Pee Wee is not going to a doctor to get Viagra. If he is, he’s wast-ing his money and time, because it’s not working for him. There’s more action going on in a hospital bed than in ours.”

“Annette, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but . . . maybe it’s not for you,” Rhoda said gently.